


The Hunter Becomes The Hunted

by ADeadlySheep



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Biting, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Curses, Death, Dragons, Fluff and Angst, Mild Blood, Near Death Experiences, Other, Rough Kissing, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Van Helsing McCree, Werewolf Transformation, Werewolf Turning, references to movies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-08-02 19:48:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 37,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16311581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADeadlySheep/pseuds/ADeadlySheep
Summary: Terror and death have come to your village, and the man who saves you all is cursed when he falls in love with you.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The rape doesn't really happen but I might as well warn you all about it just in case!

You sat down on the rickety old bench outside of the tavern with a sigh, your aching shoulders deflating and falling loose as your posture slouched over. Exhaustion clung to your eyes, yet you kept them open somehow. It may have been the cold autumn air nipping at whatever exposed skin you may have left bare to this cold night or maybe it could have been the drunken banter from inside of the tavern just behind you... Or maybe it was that buzzing feeling deep in your stomach that you knew something was wrong.

You slowly lifted your head to peer around the empty village, noting that nobody was outside beside yourself. You swallowed when you spotted nothing but rats scuttering across the cobblestone paths, spiders crawl up walls and into the homes of the people missing from the once lively streets. A cold shudder ran down your spine, you tugged the cotton cloak further across your now shaking shoulders.

You were alone here in the outside world, and yet you could feel thousands of eyes on you. You sat forward on the wooden bench, hunching in on yourself just a bit in an attempt to make yourself look smaller just in case something was looking right at you.

It was dark out here. The lanterns were not lit by the guards who were nowhere to be seen... It was odd to not see the village guards out and about, it was rare, only happening on holidays or on days with bad storms gracing your village and the farm around it. But with no lights blazing, you could barely make out anything in this village without the light, everything so haunting and ugly and wicked without light to... lighten it up.

Trees looked to be monsters, shadows seemed to be demons twisting in smoke and taunting you with promises of wishes come true for a price, stray cats seeming to be goblins sure to drag you down the village's well if you even look at them wrong.

Everything in this village looked so damned evil without light.

Owls cooed and ravens cawed, the sounds of the insects coming alive around you were enough to make you want to gag. But the distant sound of a howling wolf caught you ears quick enough for you to look at its direction: The mountains. The place where monsters are known to come from whether it's up top in the harsh snows spikes or down below in the cold and dark stony caves.

The feeling of uneasiness inside of you did not go away at all. Dread had started to hang over your head now, your stomach twisting into tight knots until you couldn't take it anymore.

You pushed yourself up from the old bench, allowing it to creak loudly at your missing weight before you quickly climbed the brick stairs and tossed open the heavy door and slamming it closed behind you.

"Be careful with that thing!" one of the old hags chided, waving around her gnarled wooden cane. "You can do so much damage with such a heavy thing! There is no need to go slamming it closed! You can break it off of its hinges!" she squwaked as she smacked the end of her cane on the wooden plank floors.

"Sorry," you murmured.

You doubted she could hear you over the music the bards played and the loud chatter of the other tavern patrons let alone the two men wrestling in their drunken states. With a sigh, you stayed along the wall and scurried to one of the back rooms where you sat down on top of one of the wooden barrels. You slouched against the moist stone walls and peered over at the flickering lantern sitting on top of a barrel not too far away from you. Dead moths laid on the bottom of the metal panel, burnt by the near-dead flame. You placed the back of your skull against the stone, your hair sticking to your head and to the wall, but you couldn't care at all right now.

Your ears pounded from the chanting in the other room, your head starting to throb in pain and your eyes burning from being awake for so long. The moist, cool room threatened you, tempting you with a small nap on top of the dry barrels full of potatoes that will probably go bad in a few days and heads of cabbage that are most likely stale.

You were nearly tempted to until something slammed up against the wall across from you, nearly knocking down the brittle wall itself. Dust trickled down from the rafters above, pebbles rattled across the floors and the chanting turned to yelling, shouts of curses and such. This was not helping your aching head.

You rubbed the sides of your sweating head and stood up from your spot on the barrel, it too creaking from your shifting weight before dust trickled into the air and following you like a homeless dog begging for scraps of food until you exited the small side room.

You eyed the scene to your right, scoffing and rolling your eyes at the brawl now starting up. You could only guess right so many times before this started to work like in the mines. All of it the same thing: Find the ore vein, start mining out chunks of the precious metal, haul it off to the blacksmiths, go home, go to sleep, wake up, start all over again.

This was just like work in the mines, except, you decided to skip so many of the steps. You looked over at the door, now bare of any old hags and their gnarled old canes just as old as they were, then back to the brawl at hand. With a sigh, you lifted the old door up and tried to push it out so you could escape this tavern once more for the night only to have the door yanked from your grip.

You stumbled back a bit, your eyes widening as the door swung open to reveal a common drunk that lays around the tavern all day, wasting his coin on the cheap mead and ale that this tavern pours into the waiting mouths of the people living here, slowly poisoning them all. Something wet was dripping from his lips and scarred chin, the slick of his own bile had smacked you across the face, your nose recoiling back at such a putrid smell. You gagged softly and stepped out of his way, but his dark gaze was still on you, watching your every move.

"I just need to get out of here, please," you murmured as you lifted your hands. "Can you step aside?"

The drunken man leaned against the doorframe, his dirty hand clamping on the wooden door and his cracked nails digging into the grooves of the wood. He sneered, showing off yellowed teeth... of those he actually had left that is.

Your breath hitched in your throat, your stomach once again twisting in tight knots only the bravest of sailors could tie. You took another step back, but his other hand leaped out and snatched ahold of your wrist.

A cry escaped you, a scream quickly following only for the drunken man to yank you outside, not gathering any attention to the two of you nor to the heavy tavern door slamming closed behind you.

"You wanted to come out here so bad!" the man barked as he squeezed your wrist tighter. "What's the problem? Why not now?"

He yanked you down the stairs, your feet slipping against the brick and falling to your knees, a cry of pain escaping you as the cold cobblestone ripped apart and ate at your cloth bottoms and the skin on your knees. You gripped onto his wrist, trying to alleviate the pain that was now throbbing at your wrist, your fingers of such hand had started to go numb.

"Please," you whimpered out as you tried to pull back.

The man only yanked you closer, he used his other hand to yank down his tattered cloth trousers just enough for you to start to see the disgusting bush of hideous human organ that was his hideous...

You gagged, turning your head away as his trousers pooled at his ankles only to have his filthy hand snatch at your jaw and forcing you to look at it. you cried out, sobbing as tears slowly spilled down your cheeks as he slowly drew you closer. You gripped onto his hairy thigh, pushing yourself away, but he was stronger than you, he drew you closer to his member until a loud shot ripped him away from you, the man falling on his bare ass and grunting as smoke filled your nose.

Your heads shot to the right, your lips quaking into a thankful smile as you scurried back on your calves and hands until you were a good ways away from the man now cursing out and spitting at the ground.

Your savior stood straight, shoulders squared, his features barely illuminated by the dying embers of his cigar as smoke clouded around him.

Light. You saw light. You saw hope in that light of the burning cigar and you slowly stood up onto your shaking feet and scurried behind him, his hand outstretching for you to take, gloved fingers holding still and firm and you took it. His strength was more than the man's, and yet, he gently tugged you next to him as his other hand held a gun, a revolver. You only saw a gun once in your life and that was when you were a child, seeing a mercenary come through your village looking for the lake monster.

"Yer gonna get out of 'ere and never bother 'em again," the man drawled darkly. He cocked the revolver, the man sneering before coughing up more bile before spitting it your way. "You understand me?" he growled.

"The bitch ain't worth it anyways," the man snapped back.

You watched from your savior's side as the man stood up slowly, groggily yanked up his tattered trousers and stumbled back into the tavern, tossing you one more disgusted look before the heavy door closed.

You turned in your savior's grasp and stepped away from him, but still holding his hand tightly.

"Thank you," you whimpered.

"Of course, darlin'," he murmured to you. He pocketed his revolver and lifted the cigar from his lips and blew smoke from his chapped lips. "I couldn' let that happen to anyone."

"I-I-Is there some way I can pay you? Please, I need to repay you. My family, we own the tavern," you pointed at the tavern still lively, still brawls going on inside in fact, with a shaking finger. "Please, I-I need to repay you for saving me."

"No need, darlin'," he smiled softly at you. "I'm a man of the people."

He reached his hand up and tipped the brim of his leather hat at you before bringing the cigar back to his lips, the embers brightening up as the smoke stopped for a quick second.

"Please. A drink, a room to sleep in for the night, coin, food for days, something. Please, let me repay you somehow."

The man looked up at the night sky, looking at the moon and the stars before puffing out another cloud of thick gray smoke. He nodded and looked back down at you. He tossed his cigar on the cobblestone ground and stomped it out.

"I'll take that night inside if it means you'll have some peace of mind."

You smiled up at him, tears brimming your eyes and a few pouring down your heated cheeks. He brought his thick gloved thumb up to brush away the stray tears. You slowly reached up and grasped his hand, squeezing it firmly and looking him right in the eyes. Those sweet, warm honey brown eyes that lit a fire in you...

"Thank you..."


	2. Chapter 2

"Here is your room," you whispered.

You lifted the heavy lead key to the lock, turning it until it clicked loudly, and pushed the door open. You winced when it creaked as it slowly swung open and sneered when the floorboards creaked under your feet. You stepped aside and looked back at the man before back at the room, your gaze following his larger form as he slowly entered the room and looked around himself.

"This is a nice lil' inn ya got here, darlin'," he smiled.

"I'll bring you dinner when nobody is watching the kitchen and some clean water and rags so you can clean yourself up," you promised softly.

"When do ya want me outta here?" he cocked a brow.

He lifted his leather satchel up and set it by the foot of the bed.

"They do not come up here if nobody rents a room for the night. You can slip back downstairs when the evening arrives, slip into the drunken crowd and leave then if you wish."

"Sounds like a plan, darlin'," he smirked. 

You watched him reach up and lift his leather hat off of his head, chocolate brown locks flying down only to end in a leather strap tying the ends together. He wandered over to the wooden chair in the corner and placed his hat on the table next to it. He slipped his trenchcoat off of his broad shoulders, revealing a cotton shirt stretching over thick muscles and a broad chest. He didn't even fold his trenchcoat, simply tossing it over the back of the wooden chair as he kicked off both of his boots and slipping his gloves off of his hands. You noticed the small scars on his bare hands, white scars on tanned skin stood out the most to you.  
He unbuckled his belt and gun holster, placing it right next to hat on the table, kicking his boots under the table and slapping his gloves down onto the surface of the chair.

You gripped the handle of the door and stepped away from the door, eyeing the end of the hallway at the chests lining the wall before turning your gaze back to the man.

"Would you like a wax candle? A lantern? A Bible and cross and rosary for the night so you may pray?" you offered.

"Just the lantern, darlin'," he gazed over his broad shoulder to look at you. "I got my own."

He reached into his leather satchel and produced a thick, worn out Bible covered with some knicks and scratches in the old leather, a wooden rosary roughened up with time and a near empty glass bottle of holy water. He reached into his shirt and pulled out a silver cross medallion tied to a loose strap of leather around his neck.

"As you wish," you nodded.

You started down the hallway, stopping by the wooden stairs to quickly gaze down just in case someone had noticed you were not either outside nor in one of the side rooms, but turned towards the chests and started walking again.

Producing another lead key, you opened the farthest right chest and retrieved a metal lantern with a halfway melted candle still inside. You reached back in and took a small box of tinder matches and slipped them into the pocket of your apron before locking the chest closed.

As you walked back, you slipped a match from the box and quickly flicked it across the rough metal surface of the lantern, striking a small flame that lit the already burnt wicker. You walked into the man's room, placing the lantern down on the empty dresser by the door and placed the box of tinder matches next to it.

"Do you have any preference of food?" you questioned him.

The man shook his head and ran his thumb over the rosary beads, whispering prayers to himself.

"Something that ain't alive," he smirked at you.

You nodded and looked back down the hallway, trying to recollect your thoughts and try to remember what you could steal from behind the bar and manage to sneak up the stairs.

"I'll be right back," you whispered. "Stay in here. Do not leave this room and do not open the door unless it is me. Do you understand?"

"I got it, darlin'," he winked at you.

Your cheeks ran hot, but you nodded and quickly closed the wooden door so it wouldn't squeak again.

You started to the stairs and peered down once more that night, noting that your parents were busy hauling a drunken guard out and your siblings were either busy trying to impress someone or ordering around the bards.

You quickly descended the stairs and crouched down, fumbling with the small cupboards until you found a large wooden plate, a small wooden bowl, and a clean metal spoon.

Quickly snatching those up, you closed the cupboards and fumbled around the bar for food this time. You managed to grab a hold of half a loaf of bread, a few slices of grilled leeks, one baked potato, and you managed to fill the small wooden bowl to the brim with the venison stew that was now growing cold. You had even managed to snag an unopened bottle of mead and stashed it away in your apron's pocket.

You never climbed stairs so fast in your life when you spotted your parents slowly coming back into the tavern, you nearly dropped the plate on the floorboards twice until you were finally above and out of sight.

You sighed, your shoulders relaxing as you slowly started to creep down the hallway to the last room on your left. With your hands full of food, you tapped the door with your foot and stepped back.

"It is me. I have food for you and a bottle of mead," you whispered to the man.

You didn't hear him move around, but you could still see the flickering lantern from under the door. You were about to tap the door with your foot again when the door quickly swung open, scaring you and almost made you drop the plate and bottle of mead to the floor.

"Sorry, darlin'," he winced, visibly regretting what he just did. "Didn' wanna make too much noise walkin' 'round the room and all."

"You are fine, just warn me next time or tell me before I leave."

The man nodded and moved aside so you could step through.

You set down the plate and slipped the bottle of mead out from your apron pocket and uncorked it, handing it over to the man.

"Will do," he smiled softly at you.

He took a sip from the bottle and looked down at you.

"Is there a problem?"

"I jus' wanna know yer name, darlin'. Ya must be sick of me callin' you darlin' all the time."

Your eyebrows flew up a bit, your lips parting in slight shock.

"(Y/n)," you murmured to him.

"(Y/n)," he hummed, his eyelids becoming heavy. "Beautiful name for such a beautiful person."

The man took another sip from the mead bottle, his eyes trained on you.

"May I ask your name?"

"McCree. Jesse McCree at your service for all of your monster huntin' needs," he winked at you.

"That explains the large bottle of holy water and the silver cross and... the gun." You fumbled with your hands, picking at the dirt under your nails. "Are you a mercenary for hire or... do you just do this for the sake of the people?"

"Little bit of both, I guess. Just like when people ask me if I truly am a holy man or if I'm just a murderer using religion as a disguise. Maybe a bit of both, maybe neither one. It depends on the person really, some say I robbed 'em blind for a small goblin they coulda killed with their broom, some say I'm a generous soul when I slew the satyr plaguing the village on the other side of that mountain." He eyed you cautiously. "What do you see me as, (Y/n)?"

"I see you as a savior for the innocent. I don't see a wicked soul in your eyes, a warm one instead."

Jesse smiled, showing his teeth to you as a soft chuckle left him.

"Well I'll be," Jesse laughed, "ya flatter me, (Y/n)."

You stepped out of the room, Jesse's smile fell a bit and he looked at you with worried eyes.

"I'll be right back. I need to get you a pail of water and some rags so you can clean up. Would you like leather polish? I can sneak it out of my father's room."

"Just the water and rags are fine, darlin'," Jesse hummed.

 

* * *

 

 

You hauled the bucket up, the metal pail straining your shoulders as you carefully pushed yourself through the crowd. Your eyes scanned the crowd, keeping an eye on your family, noting that your siblings are still doing their own things, your father was busy laughing along with his good friends, and your mother...

Where was your mother?

You slowly stumbled to the stairs and snatched up a spare rag from the bar and stashed it inside of your apron's pocket before you started to climb the stairs.

"Where are you going with that?" you heard someone snip over the drunken singing and belting from the tavern's crowd.

Your head shot back, your eyes landing on your mother who had her arms crossed over her chest. One of her eyebrows was raised and her wrinkled frown was deeper.

"The inn rooms upstairs are filthy, mother," you called out. "The previous traveling merchants that rested here did not clean up properly."

Your mother sneered and scoffed, motioning you up the stairs before smiling at you.

"How sweet of you to do such a thing," she hummed.

You watched as she turned and vanished back into the crowd of people. With a satisfied sigh, you turned and quickly climbed the stairs and did your best to avoid the water sloshing and spilling out of the metal pail.

And so, you walked down to the end of the hall and knocked on the last door to your left with your foot and stood back, tightening your grip on the metal pail just in case Jesse scared you again.

"It's me," you whispered just loud enough for Jesse to hear you.

 

The door slowly swung open this time but not slow enough for it to cry out and groan with the hinges. Jesse stood there in the dying light of the lantern next to him, the warm glow highlighting his honey brown eyes and his warm smile.

"Darlin', yer treatin' me too good," he murmured to you. He grasped the heavy pail and slipped it from your grasp, easing your aching shoulders. "Get some rest darlin', I can take care of this all."

"My family will see you."

"I'm not a living monster hunter without knowin' how to sneak around, darlin'," Jesse laughed. "I know a thing or two about getting past monsters and a lot about getting past other humans."

"Are you sure?"

"If I get caught, I won' turn ya in, darlin'. I promise you. I'll leave with no threat or bullet."

"I won't let you get kicked out. I owe you, and this is how I will start to pay you back."

"This is enough for me darlin'. And you don' need to pay me back at all."

"I have to pay you back though, it will haunt me until the rest of my days if I don't do this."

"Yer not gonna leave me alone until you pay back your 'debt' to me?"

"No. If you leave, I will wait for you to come back to this village and I will be ready to repay you for it." Jesse chuckled and looked down at you. "Goodnight, Jesse McCree."

"Goodnight (Y/n)."

Jesse watched you closely as you slowly left his field of vision before closing his door for the night.

 

* * *

 

 

"You can easily slip out during the evening when all of the workers get out from the mines and shops. Not a single person will know, not even my family. They do not watch the doors at all," you murmured as you placed a large plate down on the empty dresser.

The smell of freshly prepared food helped the man rise from the bed, his large hands rubbing the sleep from his eyes before he gave you a tired smile.

"Darlin', you have this planned out, don't you?" he questioned.

"I do."

Jesse took the leather strap and tied back his long locks and sat back, looking at you as he ran his fingernails through his hair and across his scalp, his eyes becoming heavy as he yawned.

"You wanna ask me somethin', I can tell."

He peered at you as you struck a match against the side of the lantern, your body stiffened and you chest tightened when you realized he was right.

"I do. And... it is a few things actually."

"Well ask away, darlin'," Jesse cooed as he stood up, making his way over to the plate full of warm food.

"Where are you from? It is obvious you are not from this region given your accent."

"The south-west, close to the ocean but still dry as sin."

"You traveled far. And for what? A monster? Riches? Fame?"

"A monster. A vampire, the king of 'em all. He lives up in the mountains, in an abandoned castle and I made it my job to slay him and bring peace to the villages before he wakes up and reigns hell over everyone."

"Dracula? King Gabriel Dracula Reyes?" your jaw dropped. "He's surrounded by mindless ghouls and his children. You alone are going to slay him and his armies?"

"I got some friends comin'," he winked at you before he shoved a forkful of food into his mouth.

"Friends?" Your eyebrows scrunched up in worry. "You have an army yourself?"

Jesse nodded and swallowed.

"Myself, two men from across the oceans, aging guardsmen, an alchemist. I have my army of warriors, and Gabriel has his army of monsters and misfits."

"Are you afraid?"

"Fear only makes the monster grow stronger as some say," Jesse laughed. He reached up and clutched onto the silver cross, rough thumb running over the worn down points. His eyes gazed over the wooden boards that made up the floor in thought, his eyes landing on a loose nail protruding out from one of the boards. "But if I'm gonna be honest with ya darlin'... I am afraid, but I learned not to show it. People will hold it over ma head and all, and I just wanna avoid that."

You nodded and stared down at your hands you had shoved into your apron's pockets not too long ago.

"Are you... Are you staying here? In the village? Or are you going to try and stay in the village just North of here at the mountain's opening road?" you mumbled.

"It depends on whatever the rest wanna do, darlin'. But one of the old guardsmen knows a woman in the woods who may take us in. If not, then we may have to go to that village."

Your heart sank. You knew he wasn't going to be able to stay here until for too long, but you had hoped he could have stayed, that maybe his army could stay here and that you could sneak them all up here, but you knew that would be impossible. You knew you shouldn't have gotten too attached to him, but yet, you did and now you were paying the price for it. Heartbreak and disappointment.

Jesse stabbed his fork back into his food before him, ignoring the tankard of fresh cows milk that sat on his plate.

"I hope you take care of King Dracula, save us all," you murmured.

"I won' stop until it's done or I'm six feet under, but I'm taking that bastard down with me even if it's the last thing I do."

"What happens if he... I heard he can turn the living into the undead, into a monster and into one of his own minions... What happens if he... turns you?"  
"My men know to not hesitate putting a bullet, bolt or arrow in my skull if that ever happens."

Your heart dropped to your stomach, your eyes pricking with tears as soon as he said that. You knew there was a very slim chance of Jesse coming back to you alive, but you still held onto that childish hope that he would always come back to you, to save you once more from a drunken assaulter and to show you kindness so stranger before has. He truly was a man of the people.

"Darlin'," he started. He placed the fork down on his plate and reached over to scoop your hand up. With a gentle squeeze, you looked up to his honey-brown eyes with your glassy orbs and sniffled, tears nearly spilling over your cheeks. "I'll come back to you. I just can' promise it'll be alive. I may come back in a coffin or as a ghost if those even exist. I'll come back for you."

You opened your mouth to say something only to be cut off by a crash below you followed by a series of shouting followed by your father screaming out your name. A sigh left you, deflating your shoulders in defeat and lowering your head.

"I need to go. I'll be back. Stay here, you know the rules," you murmured to Jesse.

Jesse only nodded, his body stiffening as he stopped moving. He watched you until you closed the doors, honey-brown eyes staying on him as you slowly closed the door behind you, hearing you quietly trek down the hall and slowly going down the stairs before he stabbed his fork back into the breakfast before him.


	3. Chapter 3

The tavern slowly filled with men and women, their slow bodies slumping down on the creaking wooden chairs, some kicking their feet up on their desks before waving down one of your family members. Warriors settled around the fire crackling in the center, farmers and miners huddling in the back of the tavern, looking out at the horizon and the large mountain sitting still, the elderly staying by the door while the young wandered around as the bards danced and plucked at their instruments.

You stayed behind the bar, wiping and polishing the aging wood as some of the older drunks sat before you. You set up steins of ale, tankards of mead, bottles of wine and wooden cups of water, handing them off as your family members retreated towards you for refills.

You peered back every now and again to Jesse who stood by the opening, just barely in your view. He smiled down at you and would tip his hat to you every time you look up to him, his honey-brown eyes warming up.

You looked back at the crowds forming in the tavern, noting your family had started to slow down. Everything was starting to come together, Jesse would merge back in with the crowd... He'll be off on his next quest.

* * *

 

You would have motioned for him to drop down, but your mother was hovering nearby the bar, her eyes scanning the crowd and then back to you with her wrinkled lips pressed into a firm frown.

You eyed a new face in the bar, a man clad in armor sitting by himself, a tankard empty and his dark eyes open yet not there as well. You slid away from the bar and took up a bottle of mead, uncorking it as you neared the warrior until the man looked up at you. He sat up, reaching into his pocket to retrieve golden coins to repay you only for you to wave him off.

"It is my last drink before I must ride back home. Please," he offered you a few gold coins.

"It is on me. For a favor," you cocked a brow.

"What is it you need me to do?" he eyed you questionably.

"I need you to distract my mother. Flirt with her, pull her aside and compliment her. I just need her distracted for a minute and not a second more. Maybe spill something on her apron?"

You poured the golden mead into his tankard, eyeing him carefully. The man only nodded, his eyes looking back up to you.

"I will do it," he hummed.

You retreated back to the bar quickly and snatched up your dirty rag, you kept your eyes on the warrior. He grasped his tankard and with a few large gulps, he dropped his tankard to the wooden table and stood up, eyeing your mother. With gold coins still in his metal gauntlet, he stumbled over to her and grabbed her attention. Your mother's back was to you now and you didn't hesitate to motion Jesse to climb down.

But instead of climbing, Jesse simply dropped down and slipped into the crowd, but he was still in your line of sight. He looked back to you, smirking before strutting up to you, sitting in the empty stool and tipping his hat to you just in time for your mother to turn away from the warrior with a palm full of gold coins.

She eyed Jesse and simply shrugged, walking back and weaving through the crowd of drunks.

"Hello there," Jesse drawled as he lifted his hat off of his head.

He placed his hat on the bar counter next to him. A smirk curled up on his bearded face, his eyes heavy with love.

"What can I get for you, traveler?" you questioned him.

"How do you know I ain't from here?" Jesse scoffed.

"I know everyone in this village, and you are not from here at all."

"Well aren't you a smart lil' thing?"

"Like I asked before: What can I get for you, traveler?"

"Mead. A stein of it," Jesse stated as he reached into his trenchcoat's insides. Jesse grabbed a handful of golden coins and placed a healthy amount on the bar's surface before you, your eyebrows rising a bit at the sight of such amount for a stein of mead. "Just one? Or are there more to come after this?"

"Jus' one. I gotta stay sober enough to travel, don't I? I have a lot of work to be doin'."

"I bet you do, traveler."

You raised a heavy steel stein up and set it before Jesse before reaching for the corked bottles of mead and filling the hefty stein until the mead brimmed the lip of the metal. One by one, you picked up the golden coins and placed them into one of the pockets of your apron as Jesse carefully brought the lip of the stein to his chapped lips and quietly drank from the stein as you worked.

You could tell Jesse was taking his time with his stein of mead, slowly sipping from it every few minutes until you knew he was at his end when he lifted his stein to his lips only to place it back down on the bar's surface with a small frown. You pretended to busy yourself with work, polishing steins and tankards until your mother cleared her throat. You looked up to meet her gaze only to follow it back to Jesse who was done with his stein, fingertips drumming against the wooden bar and biting at his bottom lip.

Your heart dropped to your stomach, your chest tightened, you felt sick and it only got worse the closer you got to Jesse. He looked like a kicked dog sitting out in the rain, his honey-brown eyes pained and his shoulders stiff when he realized you were right in front of him. Your mother walked back into the crowd.

"Are you ready to go now, traveler? I'm sure your quest in life is sure to take you far, and hopefully, it will land you right back here in this tavern so bards can sing your praises for years to come."

"I think I am done, darlin'," Jesse murmured.

He stood up, his stool scraping against the wooden floor. He slowly reached out for his hat and carefully placed it on top of his head before tipping the leather brim. A tired smile stretched across his face.

"I'll see ya darlin'. Maybe right back here in the same seat, maybe on the roads, maybe in the next life, but I know I'll be seein' ya."

"I will see you soon, traveler."

Jesse slowly walked and weaved through the crowd of drunks, pushing his way through until you could no longer see the top of his leather hat. You only saw the tavern door swing open and close.

Tears fell from your cheeks, your hands quickly coming up to wipe them away before you spotted your sister wiping her hands with a spare rag.

"Watch the bar for me, I need a moment," you ordered.

Your sister simply shrugged, wandering over to where you stood as you rushed through the crowd and outside of the tavern.

You were instantly soaked from the rain pelting at your skin and clothing. You could barely see, the rain and winds taking out the lanterns that were still smoking from being extinguished. You stumbled down the stairs like the drunks you served and rushed forward, spotting Jesse slowly walking with his hands in the pockets of his trenchcoat and his head low, smoking clouding from under his hat and expanding the more it climbed into the sky.

"Jesse!" you cried out.

Jesse whipped around, cigar slipping from his mouth and falling to the floor, the embers going out with a large white cloud of smoke upon impact with a small puddle of rainwater.

"(Y/n)," you barely heard him whisper.

You bolted for him, Jesse's arms opening wide. You nearly slipped, your ankles throbbing as you were sure you and twisted it.

Your body smacked against Jesse's, your clothes providing a wet smack. Your fingers carded into his soaked hair, his thick fingers grabbing handfuls of your top and the strings of your apron. His arms crushed you, he swayed you from side to side as he nosed your neck, pulling you closer to his now cold body.

"Jesse, please come back to me," you whimpered. "Alive, not in a coffin, please."

"I'll do the best I can for you, darlin'," he whispered in your ear.

You could hear the strain in his voice. He was shaking now with you, sniffling in your ear a few times before he pulled away. He cupped your face with both of his hands, his gloved thumbs tracing patterns into your cheeks as he looked into your eyes.

Now he really did look like a kicked dog left out in the rain.

You grabbed a hold of his trenchcoat's collar and yanked him closer, capturing his lips with yours. Jesse growled into the cavity of your mouth, nose smashing with yours as he couldn't help but whimper a few times. A soft moan left you as his fingers wrapped around your wet locks, pulling you closer to him as he greedily drank you in as if you were the finest of meads and ales in the land. He tasted like mead and smoke, your tongue recoiling at first when his touched yours only for you to relax and allow him to do what he wants.

A light suddenly shot into the sky, exploding and lighting up your face for Jesse to see. Jesse pulled away and looked behind him, his shoulders deflating in defeat. He slowly turned to you and bit his lip, sniffling and watching you.

"That's for me," he whispered. "I have to go now, darlin'."

"Promise me you'll come back walking and not in a wheelbarrel," you whimpered as your grasped at his hands.

"You know I can't make those promises, darlin'." Jesse quickly bent back down and pressed his lips against yours one last time, this kiss quicker but with more fiery passion before he had to pull away. "But I'll damn well do my best." Jesse quickly lifted a hand, taking off the worn leather glove and managing to slip off one of the rings on his fingers before he placed it in your hand. "Take this, for me, please. Keep it, wear it, do whatever you want, but keep it for me... So I know that you're still with me on this, darlin'."

You nodded and looked down at the ring in your palm. It was silver, a smooth piece of moonstone in the center as the shape of an oval. It was old, but it still held on. You could tell it was drenched in holy water to keep away many evil spirits and monsters. It was even rusted from neglect at times.

You looked back at Jesse with tears brimming your eyes. You sniffled and balled your hand into a fist, the ring cutting into your skin and making your hand throb in pain, but you ignored it.

"I'll keep it for you," you whimpered.

"Oh darlin'," Jesse whimpered.

One last kiss was pressed to your lips before Jesse bolted, his trenchcoat flapping and his leather boots sloshing in the puddles of rainwater littering the streets. He held onto his hat, fingers gripping onto the leather brim as he ran past guardsmen and villagers until he had disappeared into the night.

With a sad sigh, you looked down at your fist and uncurled it to reveal the ring to you once more. With a shaking hand, you slowly slipped the ring on and balled your fist again.

A stray bolt of lightning off in the distance illuminated the moonstone now resting on the back of your finger.

"I love you, Jesse McCree," you mumbled to nobody.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set in Jesse's Perspective! (Still Second Person)  
> <3

His boots dragged along the dark room. Leather sloshing as rainwater and mud weighed them down. Water seeped from the leather boots onto the floor, pooling around in murky puddles before absorbing into the dry wood. His trenchcoat followed behind him like rain chasing rain clouds, the drops audible to everyone in the room. Jesse shrugged off his trenchcoat and looked up at the men and woman looking at him with waiting eyes.  
Jesse slipped a fat cigar out from his trouser pocket and struck a match on the wooden beam next to him, lighting the cigar and lighting up his eyes, highlighting his wrinkles and small scars that littered his face. Jesse slowly sat down on an old, rickety wooden chair and sat back against the stiff wheat padding, puffing out a bright white cloud from his chapped lips.

His eyes scanned over his little army. Six in total standing in front of him, seven including himself.

The first two were brothers from the East, a country floating on water from the sound of it.

One, the oldest brother - Hanzo was his name - was an archer, able to shoot through arrows he had already fired and split them in half and he was able to draw back arrows with such speed and grace. His hair was always tied back into a tight ponytail, his graying hair falling short with the long strand of raven black hair that hangs in front of his face. He always has a disappointed yet determined look on his aging bearded face.

The other brother - Jesse believed his name was Genji - stood just a few hairs short of his older brother by was in no way less than equal with him. Genji was a swordsman, a blade so sharp that it could split hairs and has yet to scratch or shatter. Scars littered his face and body, they were old but they were still haunting figures of his past now painted permanently on his pale skin.

Next was the retired guardsman. He was taller than the oldest brother from the East by a good height, but not as broad and muscular. His name was Jack and he reigned from a small farm outside of the wealthiest village here. Guards were now being drafted after most were sent out for war and never returned, so Jack and his brothers were drafted and served inside of the village walls before Jack had retired at a healthy age. He had scars over his face and chest from a battle with a bear that he had won, but they would remind him forever that he was only human.

Looking behind Jack stood a hulking monster of a man with a booming voice sitting inside of thick iron armor, a heavy hammer sat next to him. Jesse caught the warrior using such a thing as a dancing partner. Jesse barely got the name Reinhardt with his large tone, his ears feeling as though they were bleeding. The man was built like an ox, strong rippling muscles and one hell of a stubborn head in his broad shoulders. The man once lived in the mountains, and he declared he remembered the way to the Count's castle...

But that brought Jesse's gaze down to the dwarven man at Reinhardt's feet, the round dwarven man sitting up against Reinhardt's shin looking as if he had eaten a large meal and was ready to go back to sleep. He was missing an eye and half an arm, from a dragon fight or something, Jesse couldn't remember. The small man could build like nobody else, and some rumors even mentioned he could drink and spit out lava without getting hurt. Torbjorn was his name and he made sure everyone one foot taller than him knew that by shouting it at the top of his lungs. He claimed he knew the mountains better than anyone, even Reinhardt as he still lives there with his wife and children.

And speaking of wife, Jesse's eyes finally landed on the aging woman sitting in a chair with one leg crossed over the other. He could spot white hair covering her missing eye. All he knew was that it was a fight with a spider, he didn't get all of the details and frankly, he was a bit too afraid to ask again. Ana was her name, she spoke like any mother would, sternly yet kindly. Her head was loosely wrapped and her body was cloaked with her robes. She was skinny but hell if she wasn't dainty, there were stories surrounding that woman that she doesn't go down without a fight.

Jesse puffed another cloud of smoke from his lips and sniffed, dust and mildew and mold stunning his senses. His eyes scanned each one of them once more before he tilted his hat back with a quick push of his thumb.

"Tell me what ya got about 'im," Jesse simply stated.

A man, shorter than Jesse by a few hairs, stepped forward and produced a small satchel. The man's bronze fingers curled around the worn strap, his almond eyes narrowing and dark brows arching.

"We have collected as much evidence as we could," he started, his voice dark and sharp, an accent as thick as his upper body. "But... There is not much."

Jesse reached out and took the satchel from the foreign man. He was right. There was barely anything in there, it was as light as a newborn kitten, maybe a few bullets or an empty tankard. Jesse sneered and sighed, smoke curling from under his hat still on his head.

Jesse opened up the satchel and only found a small piece of paper rolled up - most likely a map or a piece of it at least -, a small vial of a purple plant (most likely from the alchemist), and a silver stake.

"What's with the silver stake?" Jesse mumbled.

"Other hunters that have made it out have told that the Count cannot be killed by a normal wooden stake," the other foreign man stated.

Jesse looked at the brothers and then back to the piece of rolled parchment. It unrolled in his palm, it was a corner of an inscription, Latin by the looks of it. Jesse's nose wrinkled a bit, he barely knew the language, but no doubt the archer or the alchemist might know what it says.

"Anything else?" Jesse asked, knowing he might not get the answers he's hoping for.

"Just folklores and tall tales with no actual evidence. It is only the gypsies around the towns and villages that spread these lies as warnings," the archer sneered.

"How do you know they are lies?" the alchemist questioned as she raised a graying brow. Her tired dark eyes narrowed at the two brothers. "I do not see you two going up against the Count and living to tell the tale. How do you know if those gypsies are lying?"

"The Count wasn't born from fires in a cauldron, he was brought back by the Witch of the Wilds," Jesse stated as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. "He serves her, and she's waking 'im up soon." Jesse looked up at the men and woman looking back at him. "We don' have time to keep fuckin' around."

"To the mountains, we go then!" the large knight boomed, his hefty shoulders squaring and muscles most likely bulging under his thick armor.

"What are ye talkin' 'bout?" the dwarven man scoffed. He raised a mechanical hand and waved off the large knight. "Yer gonna get us all killed!"

"Aww, is the little man mad I woke him up from his beauty sleep?" the knight teased in a sorrowful voice.

"Yer getting ahead of yerself, Wilhelm," the short man threatened, his one good eye narrowing and blond brows furrowing with rage.

"What was that?" The knight raised a large hand to his helmet, placing it against the metal side of his helmet where his ear would be. "I could not hear you all the way down there! Can you speak up?" he laughed.

"Why I outta-"

"Enough!" the retired guardsman snapped, baring his white teeth at the two men. "You two are acting like disrespectful children."

"Aww, did we upset you, father?" the short man teased, blinking his one good eyes quickly.

"I'm not your father."

Jesse sat back in his chair with an unamused face, his nostrils twitching and eyes dull in the burning embers of his cigar. With a sigh, he lifted a hand to take the cigar from his chapped lips and stood up, dropping the cigar on the floor and stomping it out with the soaked sole of his leather boot.

"Enough!" he boomed. The room fell quiet and all eyes landed on Jesse who was glaring at everyone from under the brim of his hat. His nostrils flared and his lips were pulled back into a sneer, almost showing his grit teeth to everyone in the small room. "Can't go slayin' 'im if all we're doin' is bitchin' and moanin'!" Jesse raised the small piece of paper with the Latin written on it in dark ink. "This is all we got for God's sakes! We could be out there already gettin' shit so we can rid this world of his fuckin' face!"

Their eyes dropped to the floor, soft murmurs leaving their slightly parted lips as they avoided eye contact with one another.

Jesse's grip wanted to crumple up the parchment, but this was his only clue for slaying the Count. Instead, he crumped his other fist, the soaked leather glove creaking and stitches tugging, water dripping down from his clenched knuckles.

"Do you wish for us to search the nearby villages? The one by the mountains?" the youngest brother question, raising a scarred black brow.

"Evacuate 'em, get everyone out of there and get them on the trails," Jesse pointed at the guardsman, the knight and the engineer. "You two, search the mountain pass," he pointed at the two brothers. "And you," he pointed to the old alchemist, "start makin' potions or whatever you make."

* * *

 

It was near morning, the once dark blue skies full of stars and dark clouds had now started to fade into blazing reds and oranges. Jesse had leaned up against the wall and stared at the rising sun over the valley, the water glistening gold and the green grass turning bronze.

A puff of smoke left his lips, cigar smoking away in the cold morning as Jesse stared off into the distance. He could see a village in the valley, your village. Jesse felt his chest tighten, his eyebrows furrowing with worry and his eyes sting...

He missed you something awful.

Jesse crossed his arms over his broad chest and puffed out another cloud.

He could still remember last night perfectly. The stein of mead still heavy and warm in his stomach, the rain soaking him, you chasing after him, the ring, the promise, the tears... the kiss...

Jesse never kissed anyone like that, not even his mother on her deathbed, not his father when he went off on an expedition for the village Thane to rid a nearby cave of evil - an expedition he had never returned from, only his hat and gun and holster was all that was left of him - Jesse never kissed anyone like that.

He felt something for you, something hard and passionate. He felt a connection to you, he felt tied to your side.

Nobody could understand how he felt, they couldn't understand what he felt for you.

He wanted to oh so badly march back down to your village and stay by your side for the rest of time.

He was in love with you.

Jesse reached up and plucked the now cigar stub that was still smoking from his lips and dropped it to the stone ground, stomping it out with the sole of his leather boot and hesitantly turned around and walked back into the small inn.

He saw Ana slipping small bottles into everyone's satchels, each was filled with colors Jesse has never seen in such ways before. Pinks and purples and blues and yellows. He wanted to question Ana on what the vials and bottles were full of, but he refrained when she raised a white brow at him.

"The others have not returned yet, if that is what you are wondering," Ana simply stated as she turned back to the satchels.

"They're comin'," Jesse sighed.

"Why were you looking at that village in the valley? If you do not mind me asking?" Ana questioned slowly.

"That's where I came from last night."

"Did you leave something there?"

"No."

"Did you meet someone there?" Ana smiled, flashing her white teeth at Jesse.

"Yeah," Jesse smiled softly. He raised one hand and felt over his other ring finger, feeling the spot where his ring should be. "I gave 'em my ring, I promised 'em I would come back all safe an' sound after this is all done."

"You will stop hunting monsters?"

"No, but I'll try and slow it down for 'em."

Jesse strained his ears at the sudden boom of laughter. Sure it was far away, but it was still loud and it caught him off guard quickly.

"They are back now."

"You think the brothers are back yet?"

"Perhaps they are with the three you sent to the village."

Jesse stood up and made his way to the door to see only the three walking, laughing and smiling. Jesse leaned against the doorway and raised a thick, hairy brown brow at the three.

"Take care of what I told ya'll to do?" Jesse drawled strongly.

"The village is clear of any villagers and they're on their way to the village in the valley. We sent a horse there first to warn everyone," Jack stated as he glanced at Jesse.

"So everything is clear?" Ana chided.

"Yes!" Reinhardt boomed.

"The taverns?"

"Yes!"

"The inns?"

"Yes!"

"The fisheries?"

"Yes!"

"The loggers?"

"Yes!"

"The homes and huts?"

"Yes!"

"The officials' homes?"

"Yes!"

"The cellars?" Ana pushed.

"Yes! We looked everywhere!" Torbjorn shouted as he waved Ana off.

"Um," Reinhardt hummed, raising a metal hand up to place it on his bearded chin in thought.

"We looked everywhere you bullhead!" Torbjorn shouted at Reinhardt.

"Did you see the brothers?" Jesse asked Jack.

"Not a sight of them. Maybe they're done with the pass and are doing another run through with the village?"

"Do you wish for us to do so?" someone asked from behind Jesse, his shoulders shooting up in fear.

Jesse spun around to see the brothers inside of the inn, looking up at him and waiting for their next orders.

"No, no, just... Don't do that again," Jesse coughed. The brothers stayed silent as Jesse and the three men behind him slowly entered back into the inn. Jesse went to reach for a cigar but stopped, his mind coming together quickly before he looked back at the brothers. "Anything?"

"We found the Count's castle," Genji stated as he played around with the hilt of his sword.

"And a passage in through an old tunnel. It will most likely lead into the dungeon or maybe into the actual castle itself," Hanzo followed up.

"You didn't go inside?" Jack cocked a graying brow.

"It's fine, just as long as we got a way inside."

"Is it even open? Can we open it?" Jack questioned the brothers.

"We opened it, we did not go inside," Hanzo narrowed his eyes.

"There we go! Problem solved," Jesse drawled getting in between the two men.

He could feel the two men glaring at one another past his broad shoulder. The tension in the room was tight and tense, hanging over everyone right above their heads.

"How would you expect them to get along with us if you keep doing this?" Ana hissed while waving her hand around. "Trust them and they will trust you."

Jack huffed and backed away from Jesse and the brothers, the two lowered their squared shoulders and their dark eyes gazed at each other.

"When do we set out?" Genji questioned, still toying around with the hilt of his sword.

"Tonight. It'll be better if we go at night, it'll be harder to see us comin'."

* * *

Trudging through ice and snow, leather was not really the proper footwear for this... But Jesse found that out too late. He cursed himself past his chattering teeth, his gloved hands grabbing handfuls of his trenchcoat and dragging it closer to his shivering body. His hat was pressed against his chest, leather crumpling against his cotton white shirt and hair whipping around behind him. It was a miracle how the tie did not come loose.

Jesse's eyes slowly scanned the mountain pass, the winding stone path slowly climbing. In the distance, past the whirling snow and harsh, howling winds stood something tall, something dark. Jesse grit his teeth, his tongue burning from the cold as he pushed himself to climb the mountain pass faster with his comrades behind him.

Torbjorn and the brothers seemed perfectly fine walking through the pass, no wincing or struggling or bared teeth and angry eyebrows. Ana, Jack, and Reinhardt however, were another story, they were just like Jesse.  
Jesse looked back at the looming castle they were slowly inching towards, his honey-brown eyes narrowing and his nostrils flaring. He started to murmur to himself, promises and pleas for him to go back to the village in the valley safely, to return to you in the tavern with a crackling fire and warriors telling tall tales with a heart needing to be filled with love.

Jesse smiled against the snow battering his freezing face, pushing himself through the snow, a fire lit in his chest.

He was going to come back to you. He made a promise.

And everyone knows that Jesse McCree keeps his promises.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in Junkenstein's P.O.V. for this one!  
> Also, big boy Reyes is here!

The old scientist rounded the corner, slowly entering the laboratory. He rubbed his two gloved hands together, a smile cracking against his face and bushy white eyebrows rising on his forehead the more he looked around beneath his goggled eyes. The stray hairs on his chin and jaw were proof that he had not taken care of himself properly, the dark bags under his eyes that managed to poke from under his goggles were another sign of proof. His wrinkled forehead was beaded with sweat, some of his hairline was crusted with old oils and anyone could see that natural facial oils soaking his skin that he was too busy all the time to even wipe off as well as the few smeared splotches of dark blue ink he had on his cheeks and chin.

Overall, the mad scientist really did look like a mad scientist at the end of the day.

His peg leg smacked against the cobblestone with every step he took, the old scientist hobbled around the floor while looking up at the coffin raised on a slab of metal. A twisted grin spread across his ghoulish skin, eyes were hidden away by bright blue lens and his hair exploded into what looked like white fire. He cackled, rubbing his rubber-gloved hands together before hunching over, his nose twitching with anticipation.

"How long until we're ready?" the scientist barked, not even paying attention to the minions scrabbling around him.

"Not long sir!" one shouted from above.

The doctor cackled, howling with laughter as he yanked on his white hair, his feet smacking against the cobbled floor.

"Will this work, Junkenstein?" a female asked from above.

Junkenstein turned around, releasing his hair and scanning the castle's tower until his eyes landed on a familiar face: The Witch.

Junkenstein scoffed, waving her off with a single gloved hand and leaned his weight on a table full of empty inkwells, broken quills, and parchment both blank and drawn over with sketches and words that could not be read by anyone but Junkenstein himself.

"Of course it'll work, darl'," Junkenstein snorted. He waved a hand over to the corner to reveal a large, round figure standing still by the window, watching the snow whipping around outside. "I made that thing come to life from parts of seven other men and then some." He turned back to the witch and crossed his thin arms over his scrawny chest. "I think I can bring back one measly man for you."

"Such pride for your work, Junkenstein," the witch sighed. Her pale fingers came up and twirled a blonde lock, letting it go so it could bounce around. Her blue eyes were pinned to Junkenstein himself. "But weren't the first few failures?"

"Until you came along! You're here! It'll work for fuck's sake!"

"And how can you be so sure?"

"Because you want him back." Junkenstein hobbled over to the coffin on the metal platform and slowly drilled his fingers against the old wooden lid, wood, and rot moving away. Junkenstein wrinkled his nose at the sight, such a monster was treated so wrongly. How sad. "For what, I don' care, but if it'll get that debt off ma back, then hell with it."

Junkenstein moved his hands to pry open the lid when the witch tutted him, smacking the edge of her broom against the pillar she leaned upon.

"Don't do that. Leave him in there," she ordered.

Junkenstein waved her off again and hobbled away from the coffin to his prized creation in the corner.

The thing was massive. More than seven feet tall, a hulking figure stitched together by Junkenstein's own two hands. Green skin highlighted by the white snow outside, his soulless black eyes staring off into the distance. Junkenstein modeled everything after a pig, as he thought pigs were cute. So a large pushed up nose and a big, round belly was surely sewed on tight. He barely had any clothes on, Junkenstein only gave him what he could and it was only his old clothes he wore when he was the Thane's fool.

Junkenstein wanted to reach out and touch his monster's rough, moldy skin with his bare hands, but the witch tapping her broomstick's handle against the pillar against the pillar caught his attention.

"It's ready, sir!" a minion cried out.

With a howl of laughter, his head was thrown back his his body rattled with every sick cackle that left his old lips. Junkenstein could hear electricity crackling and popping, metal humming and cobblestones rattling in the walls where they were loose. His wild white hair was starting to stand up on their ends, sticking out in every direction possible. Junkenstein quickly lumbered towards the coffin and leaned against the lever. Another twisted smile spread across his cheeks, eyes brightening and his knees shaking with glee.

He watched on in anticipation as his minions slowly cranked wheels and cogs, turning levels and yanking on old gnarled rope slowly until the metal slab was angled and the coffin slowly slide down until it stopped at the bottom of the slab. The minions quickly scattered, cowering away behind any furniture they could get behind: Knocked over desks, behind bookshelves, around the corners of walls and pillars.

Junkenstein gripped onto the lever's handle and took a deep breath.

"Please work so I can get her outta here," he whispered to himself.

With a jut of his arms, the lever cranked down and smacked against the floor, the metal slab quickly rose up and it brought the coffin up with it until it got to the top of the tower.

Electricity sparked and crackled, jolts of blue and white quickly slammed into the metal slab, vibrating the whole thing and blinding everyone. Junkenstein raised a hand to shield his goggled eyes from the flash of bright light, splitting his rubber fingers just a bit so he could peek at what was going on. His minions were screaming, cowering away behind where they hid.

Junkenstein could see the coffin jutting around, vibrating against the metal slab before Junkenstein reached around for the lever.

He turned his back to the raised coffin, grabbing the lever with both hands and throwing it back into place. The electricity stopped, the walls stilled, his minions quieted down and the metal slab slowly started to come down.

Junkenstein turned back to see the wooden coffin now burned black, it was smoking too... But no signs of life.

Junkenstein slammed his peg leg down onto the cobbled floor and cursed everything and everyone, nearly throwing a desk over onto its side until he heard the witch tut him again.

"Why are you so mad?" she questioned as she slowly curled her down the spiral stairs. "It worked. You just need to give him a minute to wake up."

She had something draped over her arm and something white in her hands. Her broomstick was nowhere to be seen. Junkenstein couldn't quite make out what it was she was carrying.

He opened his mouth, about to ask when a sudden bang caught him off guard. Spinning to face the noise, he noticed that the coffin was moved out of place just a bit. Anger boiled in his veins, his eyes shooting over to his minions cowering away. As he was about to start scolding, the coffin jutted forward, a bang resonating from it. Junkenstein closed his mouth and took a step away from the coffin.

Another bang, another jut of the coffin.

Another bang against the old rotting wood and it finally started to splinter.

Another bang, blackened wood splinters flew out. Junkenstein could see a fist retracted behind the coffin's jagged wooden fangs.

Another bang, the bats hanging above fluttered around the top of the tower, some started to swoop down to the coffin.

Another bang, a large fist finally went through the wooden coffin's lid. It was tanned, and scarred, white cuts and scars across his skin.

The hand slapped around the lid, reaching over and prying open the lid until he kicked it out with his bare foot.

Junkenstein slowly lifted his goggles, resting them on his hairline. His jaw loosened and his eyes widened at the man slowly exiting the coffin.

The man attempted to take a step out only to realize that there was no slab or floor, falling forward and landing on the ground on his hands and knees.

In the light scattered from the torches around, Junkenstein could finally make out the man. Tanned skin, a mess of dark brown hair that draped over his broad shoulders and into his bearded face, muscles tight against his scarred skin. There were traces of burns and stab wounds, some patches of skin bleached.

"You're awake, Gabriel," the witch murmured. She slowly took a few steps forward and crouched in front of him. She produced a vial full of red liquid from under the white thing she had in her hands, but the man quickly snatched it up and placed it against his chapped lips with a trembling hand. "Take it slow, you need to wait."

The vial slipped from his hands and shattered onto the floor. Gabriel coughed, his voice deep and dark, sending shivers down anyone's spine.

"Angela," Gabriel hissed.

The witch set down the items she had draped over her arms in front of Gabriel before setting the white object down on top. Junkenstein tilted his head at the mask. It was bone white, carved carefully. Dark eyes and sharp cuts, the whole thing could cover Gabriel's head... Maybe that was the point?

"Get dressed. We have much to discuss. Your chambers are set up, your minions are at your disposal, you have me behind you," the witch cooed as she stood up, her pointed hat springing up and down. "We have so much to plan."

"His chambers?" Junkenstein squwaked. "You said this was my lab!"

"Your "lab" is in his castle," the witch snipped back at Junkenstein, nearly striking him with the back of her gloved hand. "Now stay away from him," she scoffed.

Junkenstein threw his hands in the air and hobbled over to his monster still staring out of the window, watching the snow whip around with blank, soulless black eyes.

"Can you believe this?" Junkenstein growled to his minion. His wild eyes looked over his minions cowering away from Gabriel who was now alone in the center of the laboratory. "I found this shithole! Who does he think he is?"

Gabriel reached over and slowly lifted up the mask, observing it and brushing away the dust that had gathered on it for possibly hundreds of years before placing it back on the ground. Gabriel lifted the clean black trousers and slowly tugged them over his wobbling legs and managing to slip his large feet into a pair of leather boots. Gabriel snatched up the clean white shirt and black vest, throwing the shirt over his head and donning the vest, Gabriel glared at Junkenstein and his monster.

"I will tell you who I am, you putrid rat," Gabriel snarled.

His voice was deep and gravely, long and sharp white fangs popped up from under his scarred lip. There was a dangerous glint in his reddening eyes, his once dark eyes were now heating up as if it were iron in a forge. Bright red, his pupil white.

Junkenstein gulped, his heart pounding against his chest. His throat ran dry and his eyes wide, his pale skin looked a little green with worry as Gabriel reached down and snatched up a dark trenchcoat and yanked it over his muscular arms.

"What the fuck are you?" Junkenstein whispered.

Gabriel's large fingers scooped up the bone-white mask from the cobblestone ground and slowly tugged it down over his face. His long dark brown locks were now hidden, his eyes mask by a wall of black, his fangs unknown to Junkenstein's eyes.

"I am Count Gabriel Dracula Reyes and this is my castle," he snarled.


	6. Chapter 6

Reinhardt raised his hammer, slowly swinging it behind him as his shoulders coiled up. The hefty hammer swung through the air, cutting through the heavy snowfall, the heavy hulking hammer smashed into the wood of the large door that stood before them.

Torbjorn scoffed and glared at Reinhardt, his large bulbous nose twitching in agitation.

"Don't ye think we should let the thieves open the door?" the dwarf sneered.

"There is no need to worry!" Reinhardt boomed. He placed a fist on his armored hip and stood up straight. "I can barge through this door and still nobody will hear us!"

"They will hear you if you keep up this nonsense!" Hanzo growled.

Reinhardt waved the older brother off before coiling his hammer back behind him only to have it swing out and carve out a larger piece into the wood.

Jesse shivered, rubbing his hands over his shoulders as he looked around. The way the brothers had gone in was now boarded up tighter and faster than any normal man could ever perform. They were all stuck outside until someone could manage to smash through the thick wooden boards and hefty iron nails.

"Who could do this so quickly?" Ana murmured. She placed an aging hand up onto the wood and traced over the grooves. "No ordinary man could do such a thing, no team of men could either."

"M-Must be his minions," Jesse managed to blurt out behind chattering teeth. "They ain't hum-man."

Reinhardt swung at the wood again, carving a larger dent into the grains and grooves. Hanzo sighed but Genji perked up, looking at the wooden boards. He reached a scarred hand down and slid out a knife from behind his back and moved towards the boards.

"Do not swing again," he waved Reinhardt off.

The knight tilted his head and scoffed, leaning back on his heels and keeping his hammer close to his armored chest.

Genji stabbed the knife between two planks of wood and pried upwards, the boards creaking and popping slight out of place, the bolts groaning in protest. Genji pried open the boards just enough for him to peek in.

"Anything?" Hanzo questioned his younger brother.

"Not a single soul is in there... yet." Genji slid his knife out and tucked it back into wherever under his garments. Genji nodded to the wooden boards, looking back at his older brother. "Take them down."

Hanzo raised his bow and swung the hefty pointed end of the bow out, cracking the wood and yanking a board out of place, breaking the board into three pieces (two of which were still nailed into the archway).

"Perfect!" Reinhardt boomed.

Reinhardt reached out and snatched up the boards above and yanked on them, pulling three and managing to rip the bolts out as well, the boards all in one piece. Jack and Torbjorn pulled on the few boards left on the bottom until Jesse grew tired of being trapped outside in the cold. With his nostrils flaring, Jesse reeled back his leg and kicked out with the bottom of his foot, his leather boot cracking the wooden planks down the center. Jesse wasted no time pushing his way through the cracked wooden boards, the rest of his group following right after him.

Jesse shivered, rubbing his hands together and placing his hat back on top of his head. He looked back at his group to see Torbjorn already lighting something on fire, a homemade torch it seemed, a goat horn and used rags.

Jesse looked ahead to see another door sitting at the end of this passageway, hopefully not barred or nailed shut this time.

He wasted no time rushing towards it, doing his best to avoid the skeletal remains of victims of Count Gabriel and the sloppy mud puddles - at least he had hoped it was mud - until he finally made it to the door. Jesse fumbled around in the dark for a bit, too stubborn to wait for Torbjorn and his horn torch, his hand finally managing to grab ahold of an iron handle. Jesse shoved his whole body weight against the door, throwing it open and allowing Jesse to stumble inside.

A wave of warmth was cast over him, Jesse's knees feeling weak. He felt like he could just curl up on the wall and sleep out the remainder of the cold left on his body. Instead, Jesse brushed away the flakes of snow and frost that built upon his clothing and trudged through the long corridor.

"Where do you think he is?" Hanzo mumbled, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the corridor.

"He's here," Jesse growled. He reached up and yanked his revolver from its leather holster. He pulled back the hammer, the gun clicking and his index finger twitching on the trigger. Silver bullets shined from the cylinders, designs carved into the shells. "I fuckin' know he is."

Jesse took a few cautious steps forward, his leather boots squeaking and creaking and water sloshing out from the soles. Jesse winced with every step, as he knew that with every step, he could give away their locations. Slowly, Jesse peered around the corner to see two people hobbling down the corridor, their backs facing him.

Jesse snapped, looking back and pointing at Hanzo.

"String that bow archer, two of 'em," Jesse whispered.

Hanzo reached back and slid two arrows from his quiver, slowly creeping up next to Jesse but stood tall in the middle of the hallway. He quickly strung one arrow, pulled back until his bow creaked and let go before stringing the second arrow and allowing it to cut through the air. Both arrows lodged themselves into the backs of their skulls, their bodies slumping over and onto the cobblestone floor.

Jesse scrabbled to the bodies and turned them over, getting a good look at their faces. Jesse reeled back in disgust at the minions, drawing his hand back and allowing the arrow to now stab through its chest and sparse clothing.

The minion's lips were gone, rotted off and revealing sharp silver teeth implanted into their black gums. A stitched up tongue, large milky white eyes, gray skin folded and sewed together by careful hands. The damn thing was even missing ears, just holes punctured into the sides of its head. Blood oozed from its chest, black and thick, pooling around the bodies.

Jesse sneered, eyeing Hanzo who was thinking about pulling his arrows out from their backs until his eyebrows were thrown up in shock. Jesse heard a sizzling, and upon looking down, Jesse choked on his own spit, coughing as he backed away.

The arrows were starting to melt, the blood was boiling on the cold floor, smoke starting to pour from the arrow and cobble below their feet. Wood split and burnt, the metal melting right off of the tips, the feathers went up in smoke and ash.

"What in the name of hell is this?" Jesse murmured.

"Something disturbing, indeed," Hanzo agreed.

"Minions of Count Gabriel," Ana scoffed. "Someone must have brought them back to life, stitched them back together."

"Who? Nobody could be this mad to do such a thing," Jack scratched his head.

"Do they have keys on them? Perhaps a map?"

Genji pressed the hilt of his sword into the minion, rolling it over onto its back only to see no ring of keys nor parchment with any markings. Genji simply placed a foot out and nudged the second body until it was face up, only to find nothing as well.

"We'll have to do this the hard way, then," Jesse huffed.

Jesse clung to the wall and carefully trekked around the pools of blood, the rest slowly following behind him. Reinhardt's metal boot barely grazed the pool of blood, the large man whimpering as he complained about his toes burning until he finally was free from the growing pools of blood.

Jesse pulled the hammer back again, the revolver clicking and bullet now ready while Hanzo strung up another arrow into his bow. Taking cautious steps through the corridors, the two faced their sides whenever a split came, aiming, but not a single soul would be there.

The group could hear muffled noises coming from around them, the floors shaking every now and again, the stones rattling and the flames flickering. Jesse bared his teeth in frustration.

"Where the fuck is he?" Jesse growled as he unreadied the revolver.

Hanzo was about to open his mouth to spout a few choice words when he stilled, his jaw hung open slightly. Hanzo strained his neck and head a bit, he was listening in on something, Genji too. They heard something.

Hanzo readied his bow, the wood and string creaking as he slowly turned the nearest corner with Jesse and the rest right behind him.

An open door, flames flickering and shadows dancing along the walls. Someone was inside that room, maybe some people. Jesse could now hear them, a man, he was cursing under his breath, spitting only to growl out again before cackling, repeating the process all over again.

Jesse pulled back the hammer of his revolver and aimed at the door next to Hanzo's side as the two slowly inched forward.

He could hear the man better with every step he took towards the room.

"Blasted witch! Blasted Count! That fuckin' banshee and dragon are all no good!" the man spat. A crash could be heard inside the room, the man shouting out curses and slamming a foot into the ground. "After all I did for them! Made his minions with my own two hands, raised the Count from the dead, raised my wife from the grave." Another crash in the room, this time the man kicked a large piece of glass out of the room. It shattered upon impact with the wall, black ink bleeding into the cracks and grooves of the cobblestone floor. "After all I've done and they do this to me? To my monster? My beautiful, beautiful monster..." The man slammed a hand down. "Damn them all!"

Jesse cursed under his breath. The Count was alive. He was hoping he could catch him before he could rise out of his coffin once more, tear his head off, stake him, drench his rotting skin with holy water and toss him in the bottom of the icy lake once more like the other hunters were able to do for hundreds of years before him.

Jesse peered over at Hanzo who was looking at him already, sharp eyes waiting for a command from Jesse. Jesse nodded to the door and slowly took a cautious step, Hanzo following directly next to him. One step closer, two steps closer, three steps closer, four, five, six, seven.

Jesse and Hanzo were now in the doorway, weapons aimed at an old man smacking papers off of a wooden table.

Jesse raised a brow, his shoulders deflating while Hanzo stood stock still.

This was the scientist that brought the Count back to life? He looked... Insane.

White hair sticking out everywhere. A peg leg and a single rubber boot. A crisp white coat on a very thin yet tall frame.

Well, anyone would have to be insane to do such an awful thing to the rest of humanity...

Jesse raised his revolver again at the scientist, his gun casting a shadow in the room that the scientist managed to catch in the corner of his eye, his whole body stiffening and the bottles he had in his hand slipped and shattered to the floor.

He quickly spun and grabbed onto the table behind him, his eyebrows raised and thin lips drawn back in fear.

"Who- How- What-?" he scientist choked out. "How did you get in here? Everything was sealed off! How did you get past the minions?"

"That is not the problem at hand," Hanzo spat, pulling the arrow back more. "Where is he?"

"Who? I don' know what yer talkin' about?" the scientist lied.

"Where is the Count?" Jesse snarled, aiming the revolver at his skull.

"What Count? He's dead and I don' deal with dead people!" the scientist wheezed as he started shaking.

"Coward!" Reinhardt boomed as he nudged the two aside, barely managing to squeeze through the small doorway and into the small room. The scientist screamed, scrambling to the farthest corner of the room from Reinhardt. "Where is he, little man?" Reinhardt growled from under his helmet.

"He- H-He..."

Hanzo let go of the arrow, barely moving it out of the way. The arrow flew through the air, slicing through dust and cracking into the cobblestone floor right before the scientist's remaining foot. The scientist screamed, huddled into a ball, curling in on himself and hugging his legs closer to his chest.

"Where is he?" Jesse snarled.

Reinhardt reached down and snatched up the collar of the scientist's white coat, swiftly lifting him off of the ground and into the air. The scientist scrambled and wormed around in the air, his hands scratching at Reinhardt's armored hand and wrist while kicking at in the air.

"You will lead him to us!" Reinhardt ordered as he managed to squeeze out of the room and drop the scientist down.

"And if you run," Hanzo started.

"I'll blow yer fuckin' brains out," Jesse growled as he placed the nose of his revolver into the scientist's cheek.

The scientist flinched away from the three men surrounding him before nodding, eyeing the nose of a gun that was pulling back the corner of his mouth.

* * *

"Why would you raise such an awful thing from the dead?" Ana chided the scientist.

"I didn' want to!" the scientist squwaked. "She made me," he grumbled under his breath.

"The witch?" Jesse questioned.

"That bitch forced me to do all of this. She made me stitch up every last one of his minions, bring that bastard back. Now look at me! Stuck doin' mindless tasks while my monster rots away."

"Your monster?"

"My beautiful creation," Junkenstein sniffled, rubbing his pointed nose with the back of his gloved hand. "He's just standing by the window watching the snow, wasting away," he brushed a tear from his cheek.

"You made a monster?" Hanzo questioned, narrowing his deep brown eyes at Junkenstein. "On top of resurrecting the Count and his minions?"

"My poor monster," Junkenstein whimpered.

The group turned a corner, arriving at a large wooden door. Junkenstein reached into the pocket of his coat and produced a ring of heavy lead keys. Locating one in the center, he slipped it into the heavy lock, turning it until it clicked loudly and pushed open the heavy wooden door.

Jesse's jaw slackened when he saw the room before him. Minions scrambling around, electricity crackling from metal rods around the room, machines and cages littering the floor of the room.

But there was no hulking green monster standing by the windows watching the snow gather just like the dust in this castle. Jesse could feel it in his chest that something was wrong. His shoulders stiffened in worry.

Jesse's eyes narrowed when he saw a man standing above everyone else, a bone white mask covering his face.

Count Gabriel Reyes Dracula.

Jesse snarled and pulled the gun away from Junkenstein's cheek, now aiming for the Count until the man started to chuckle.

The electricity stopped crackling, jumping from rod to rod around the room.

The machines stopped humming and rattling.

The minions stopped scrambling, messing around with things, speaking in different tongues to each other.

Everything stopped. It was only the man cackling as he started to clap. His gloved hands sent echoes through the room.

"Junkenstein," the Count cackled - Jesse spotted Junkenstein's lips turn from a frown into a large, wicked smile out of the corner of his eye - "please, my genius scientist, step back and come to me."

Junkenstein slowly hobbled forward, Hanzo drew back an arrow and aimed it at Junkenstein's skull. Junkenstein kept walking towards the Count, his minions now surrounding the group.

Jesse could hear something close by. Snarling, snuffling, howling, a werewolf was close. Jesse cursed, feeling around for his extra silver bullets as the minions slowly come closer to them all.

"Dammit," Jesse cursed to himself.

"Unstring your bow, archer, and leave before you all will regret it greatly," the Count warned.

Jesse waved Hanzo off, the archer reluctantly loosening the bow before lowering it.

The snarling was growing closer, Jesse could hear the sounds of chains jingling and claws scraping against stone, the telltale grunts of someone else must be nearby as well...

With a wave of his hand, his minions scrambled away.

Something was wrong...

Jesse sneered, looking back up at the Count from under the brim of his leather hat. His teeth were bared, his fists balled tightly.

"Would you do me so kindly to fetch your monster, Junkenstein?" the Count laughed.

Junkenstein hobbled over to a lever right next to the Count, grabbed the metal pole and threw it forwards, the doors right below the balcony the Count stood on were thrown open.

Two bloody red eyes cut through the darkness, then three pairs of eyes, then more than Jesse could count in a short spand of time.

"Werewolves," Jesse murmured as his hear pounded away in his throat. Jesse backed up into Reinhardt's chestplate. "Run."

"What?" Torbjorn sneered.

A maw snapped through from the darkness, sharp teeth spurting saliva onto the floor, was good enough to shut the dwarf up.

"Run!" Jesse ordered.

The eight quickly turned and ran off, somehow managing to squeeze through the doorway and slam it shut just in time for the chains - that held the werewolves back - hit the floor.

A flurry of snarls and howls charged right as the eight, slamming into the door with a sick crack as the wood splinters.

Jesse pointed down the corridor and faced the rest behind him.

"Come on, we need to go now!"


	7. Chapter 7

Jesse coughed, dust puffing from his mouth, imitating his cigar smoke perfectly. His eyes throbbed as he looked around, his gloved hand now holding a fistful of soiled, dirty and bloody fabric tightly to his throbbing chest. His ragged breathing and wheezing rang loudly in his ears, his vision swaying left and right. It hurt when he moved his head.

Jesse groaned and let go of his clothing, looking down at his hand to see blood coating his tattered leather glove. With a flick of his hand, blood splattered onto the wall next to him and onto the floor. Jesse sneered at the beast lying dead before him, the werewolf's body motionless and once tanned fur now nearly a dark red. 

The beast had got him good, slamming him into the walls, throwing him around like a toy. Jesse was sure he had broken bones and open wounds that needed to be tended to quickly by Ana or Hanzo. Jesse could hear his blood slowly pattering onto the cobblestone floor, little pat pat pats pounding away in his ears and making his head throb more.

* * *

 

Jesse slowly leaned down and snatched up the revolver he dropped when the werewolf collapsed onto him, the nose still smoking slightly. Pocketing his revolver in his holster barely hanging onto his form by a waning piece of nearly destroyed leather, Jesse slowly started to limp down the corridor.

The flames flickering away on top of candles burned his eyes, he could barely make his way through the winding corridors until he had to lean up against the cobblestone wall. With a soft groan, Jesse looked down at his stomach to see blood staining his once white shirt. Slowly peeling the soaked fabric back, Jesse grit his teeth as the cotton bit and scratched at his open wound, feeling as though he was pouring salt into his own injuries. With a soft wheeze, Jesse looked at the open gash on his stomach, from when the werewolf threw him down the corridor and into a door, the sharp handle puncturing his abdomen. It was still throbbing, but the blood was starting to slow down.

Jesse could hear snarling from other corridors followed by the cries of dying minions and the shouts of his comrades. Jesse mindlessly pulled out his revolver and opened up the cylinder to reveal no more bullets. Cursing softly to himself, Jesse dug into his pockets to find he only had one more silver bullet left. He cautiously slipped the bullet into the cylinder and close it, cocking back the hammer. Slowly, Jesse continued forward, limping with every step as his eyes scanned the hallways.

Turning corner after corner, Jesse wound up in front of Ana and Reinhardt, Reinhardt's hammer slowly rising from the werewolf's shattered head.

Ana gasped when she saw Jesse holding his stomach before rushing for him, her shaking old hands catching him and leaning him up against the wall, helping him slide down until he was now sitting. Jesse winced when Ana's fingers brushed up against his wounds.

"What happened to you, Jesse McCree?" Ana murmured as she rifled through her bag. "Were you-?"

"I wasn't bit," Jesse cut her off. "The damned thing threw me around like a child havin' a fit." Jesse coughed, blood flying from his chapped pale lips. "'m just scratched up, is all."

Reinhardt shifted, looking behind him and raising his hammer.

"Do you know where the others are?" he questioned.

Jesse shook his head as Ana produced a small closed vial with thick yellow liquid inside.

"This will hurt," Ana warned as she uncorked the vial.

"What is it-?"

Before Jesse could finish, Ana tilted the vial and poured the thick liquid right into his open wound. Jesse roared with pain, his body twitching and his hands going to scratch at Ana's hands that were rubbing the liquid right into his open wound only to have Ana smack them away. The burning scattered across his body, it became hard for him to breathe, his neck twitched and his eyes watered. He hissed behind gritted teeth, the back of his head smacking against the bricks, his boots scrabbling and scraping against the floor.

"Stay still," Ana chided, tutting him as if he were her naughty child.

"Ana!" Jesse coughed as he winced, his jaw groaning as he tightened his bared teeth.

Jesse gasped, panting and moaning in pain the more Ana rubbed the liquid into his cut until the pain had finally started to fade away. He looked down, noting the cut was gone except for a noticeable scar he knew he would have for years to come.

No more pain.

Jesse wiped the back of his gloved hand under his nose, his thumb brushing away the tears that had started to roll down his tanned skin.

"That was not as bad as it is," Ana huffed as she managed to stand up on her aging legs.

"It didn' help that you stuck your fingers in it," Jesse huffed as he placed a hand on his scar.

It was still raw, pain flaring upon contact with his skin.

"You do not know where the others are?" she questioned.

"I figured they would be with you two," Jesse groaned as he shifted, turning over and hugging the wall as a support to stand up.

"We figured that the brothers would be with you," Reinhardt piped up, his eyes still scanning the mouth of the corridor for any other monsters or minions that may charge at them.

Jesse shook his head and drew his trenchcoat close to his tattered clothing, hiding as much bare skin as he could. Maybe he could pillage a few furs for the trip back down so he would not freeze?

Jesse nodded to the other side of the corridor where he came from.

"The way out is there," he murmured. "Ya think they're there waitin' for us?"

"A possibility," Ana stated, throwing her bag over her shoulder.

A shout, a snarl, and the clatter of something hitting the ground rang through the hallways, Jesse clutching his ear. His head throbbed. His wound may be closed and he may not be bleeding everywhere, but damn, he was sore and still aching.

Jesse's feet worked faster than his mind, he quickly found himself running next to Reinhardt and Ana down the corridor to see Jack and Torbjorn putting a broken torch through a werewolf's skull, the end of the stick managing to crack through its skull and exit from the back. The werewolf went rigid and slowly slid down the stick, Jack simply hauling it to the side of the corridor.

"Where have you been?!" Torbjorn snorted, throwing his small arms up into the air in fury.

"Calm down," Jack spat. "We are all alright. Alive. That is as good as it gets."

"What about the brothers? Did you see 'em? At least where they ran off to?"

"Sadly not," Jack shook his head. Jack simply wiped the werewolf's blood on his clothing, huffing and eyeing the entrance from where they came from. "Maybe they are outside?"

Jesse was already limping towards the entrance, he could feel the cold wisps of air blowing past him, nipping at his skin like young puppies, his hair blowing back behind him. He only picked up speed when he saw the broken remains of Hanzo's arrows, what looked to be five arrows smashed apart and scraps of his quiver were stomped into the cobblestone floor.

Now running, Jesse sprinted full speed into the outside world, the snow blinding him and the flurries biting at his bare skin. He shouted for the brothers, noticing large prints in the snow, some completely destroying smaller footprints.

Jesse ran, following the prints, not even bothering to wait for those behind him, those who were shouting for him to slow down and wait for the rest.

Jesse saw red, starting off as small droplets and quickly growing into red splotches staining the once white snow until it came up to a wounded Genji. His scarred fingers pressing into his wound, pressure being placed and his body shaking.

Jesse grasped Genji by the shoulders and shook him just enough for the man to look up at Jesse with exhausted eyes.

"Help... Help Han-zo," Genji croaked out.

Jesse faced back to the group, seeing Ana now racing through with a new vial of yellow liquid in hand, one hand ready to pop off the cork.

Jesse then looked back to the trail, noting the blood had not just stopped at Genji. Hanzo must be bleeding too.

Jesse got up and ran after the prints, pulling out his revolver, and pushing his way through the snow. The large prints that obviously belonged to the werewolf had suddenly cut off when Jesse broke through a line of trees, replacing it with broken branches and pine needles. Jesse could see Hanzo limping quickly, holding his shoulder as his torn apart quiver fluttered behind him along with a trail of blood drops in the snow. Above, Jesse could see something rustling through the trees, wreckage pouring down from above.

Running forward, Jesse ran into the trees and sprinted forward, attempting to cut Hanzo off and shoot the damn thing dead. He cocked the hammer back, he pressed forward, breaking small branches and ripping up vines from the earth until he spotted Hanzo skid to a stop, using his bow to drag him back.

Snow piled up and spilled down, Hanzo's eyes wide and chest rising and falling quickly the more he looked down.

A cliff.

A snarl forced Hanzo to look behind him, at the trees, at the rustling and falling limbs and needles.

Jesse could hear the rest chase after them.

Jesse could hear the werewolf coming closer.

It all happened so slowly.

Jesse raced forward just as the werewolf broke from the drapes of the pine needles, its body flying through the air. Its large hands stretched out, claws sharp and ready to tear flesh, giant fanged maw hinged open as a deep roar left its hulking furry body. Jesse's body weight slammed into Hanzo's side, the archer falling forward and getting the perfect view of Jesse as he pulled back the trigger and fired off his last silver bullet into the werewolf's skull, piercing its yellow eye and allowing black blood to spill all over Jesse is a wide spray.

The werewolf's body kept rolling forward, its open maw falling over Jesse's shoulder, the heavy weight of its dead body cracking its jaw closed and allowing its sharp, jagged fangs to bite through Jesse's trenchcoat and rip into his warm flesh as the rest of its dead weight collapse onto Jesse. He could feel the werewolf's venom bleed through his body, burn in his veins and his heart felt like it was set on fire.

Jesse's revolver fell to the snowy ground, his hat slipping off of his head as he cried out in agony, he could feel things inside of his snap and crack and pop the more weight was put onto him until his legs slipped from underneath him.

Jesse fell over the side with the dead werewolf in tow, rolling in the air until he looked back up. He saw Hanzo gripping the edge of the cliff, the rest of the group poked their heads over the side of the cliff to watch Jesse fall further down the cliffside, coming closer to the frozen water below.

Jesse could hear them yelling for him from above.

But Jesse swore he could hear your voice. Your sweet, sweet voice that made the pain stop for a split second until he broke through the ice, falling deeper and deeper into the cold water until he blacked out.

But even when he was sinking deeper and deeper into the dark void below him, he could see your bright smile, your warm eyes...

Jesse McCree swore he could feel your tight embrace around his body.

A jolt to his system, his eyes were forced open.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your P.O.V. finally!

You sat down on the rickety old bench outside of the tavern with a sigh. Your back ached, your eyes were throbbing, it felt like your ears were bleeding. You rubbed the back of your skull, your fingertips digging into your hair and pulled until you went stalk still. Your eyes slowly fluttered open.

Something was not right.

You slowly lifted your head to peer around the empty village, noting that nobody was outside beside yourself... again... At least this time, the lanterns were lit and the glass was free of dead insects. But there were still no guards patrolling the streets... again...

Just like a week ago.

You could still see it all play out before you once more. You could feel it, you could feel his hand on your wrist, you could still feel that burn. Your knees ached when you looked at the path, your legs shook when you remembered his voice.

'You wanted to come out here so bad!'

'What's the problem? Why not now?'

Your throat tightened, you looked before you until your eyes landed on the burnt cigar still smashed into the cobble, now covered in insects and dust.

Jesse. Jesse McCree.

You could still smell his smokey scent.

Your eyes fluttered shut the more you thought of him, your hands balling into fists. The cold metal of the ring pressing into the warm flesh of your palm.

The ring.

You looked down at the ring.

You did your best to keep it clean, the silver still shined brightly, the moonstone was still as clear as it was since the day it was slipped onto your finger.

But even in your haze of love and pure adoration for Jesse McCree, you could still feel something watching you like this night one week ago.

You slowly stood up, slowly turning and facing the tavern behind you full of loud drunks and blaring bards as the sang on the tops of their lungs. You did not want to go back in there, at least not now.

You turned away and started walking. To where? Only time could tell you, the lit lanterns and the full moon lighting the way for you as you slowly stepped towards the temple in the center of your village.

You swallowed and peered around you before opening the tall door and slipping inside.

There was not a single soul inside, not even the priest was present to welcome those who may enter. He was at your family's tavern breaking apart bread and drinking your finest wine.

You slowly stepped forward, your hand coming up to trace the curves of the rows of wooden seats, tracing every curve and every rise and fall of each bench. You eyed every single book that was neatly tucked away, the rug below your feet was worn down.  
It smelled of mothballs and wine that was obviously not good enough to indulge in. Your nose crinkled, but you still found yourself slowly walking behind the priest's podium and behind the symbol standing tall to the statues that people pray to when service was not in session. Your eyes scanned over every small statue with care, noting every crack and every messy patchwork the priest had done.

At least he was trying.

A short scream left your lips as the stain glass windows above opened, wind and mist and small rain droplets barreled down and through the temple, a chill running down your spine. Some of the candles blew out instantly, some burnt out by stray drops of rain, some were still lit.

You peered up at the open windows, noting that some of the glass looked cracked from all the way down where you stood. Your lips pressed into a firm line, your hold tilting to the side as a shaky breath left your body.

"Just a storm," you murmured to yourself.

You walked up to a statue and looked over her features, a soft face, beautifully carved hair, eyes that could actually show expression. Her long figure, arms stretched out as if she was beckoning anyone for a hug, her dress long and covering her feet where a wooden bowl laid empty besides a few small coins and a piece of broken bread that was laid next to it, a mouse sniffing at it cautiously as it slowly took a few steps forward from its hole in the wall.

You bent down and ripped a piece out from the inside, the springy white bread coming off in a decent size chunk in your fingers. You placed it in front of the mouse and smiled when it sniffed it and wrapped its little pink paws around the bread and slowly nibbling at it.

You looked back to the bowl and felt around your person, managing to dig into the pocket of your apron and produce a few small coins you received as a tip from bringing an old warrior his ale. The coins slipped from your fingers and clattered inside of the bowl, clinking with the other coins inside.

The gift of charity goes a long way, as most of the faithful say.

The mouse had not moved until it was halfway through its chunk of bread. The bread slipped from its little pink fingers and bounced on the wooden floorboards. The mouse squeaked loudly, sounding like it was whining and crying and howling before racing back inside of its hole.

You stepped away from the mouse's fallen bread and looked around. All you saw was darkness save for the few still lit candles. But your face paled when you saw raindrops in a line, towards the far back where the candlelight cuts off.

Something was inside of the temple with you.

You stepped away again, your hands fumbled behind you until you managed to grab something. You swung it in front of you. A tall metal candlestick in both hands, the warm candles fell off the lip and splattered all of the wooden floors, the fire burning out instantly as soon as it hit the ground.

You heard something snuffle followed by the sounds of something being dragged on the wooden floorboards. Your eyes followed where the sound traveled, you could see rainwater falling from above and splatter on the floor. It was above...

What was it?

A vampire? No, they wouldn't be stepping onto the holy grounds of a temple, everyone knew that.

What was it? You could feel its eyes on you. You feel disgusted for some reason, like such a weird creature could know you... Oh Gods, where was it? Who was it?

Your breath hitched as a drop of something wet smacked against the top of your head, your eyes widening and your jaw dropping with a slow shake. You felt its warm, rancid breath smack and blow against the back of your neck, brushing any hair away. You heard its deep, grumbling growl emerge from behind its lips. You could feel its body heat despite it being soaking wet. Oh, Gods, you could smell it - that distinct smell of wet dog and dried blood and rotting fish and... burnt cigars and spiced mead and firewood crackling... - invading your nose.

You knew that smell anywhere.

You spun around and swung with the metal candlestick, the lip slicing through the air with a dull whoosh, hitting nothing. Your eyes were met with the wall you snatched the candlestick from. You saw water and mud and blood slowly dripping down the wall, invading every crack and dent in the wall and running along every groove of the brick.

Your eyes slowly trailed up the wall until you stopped at the beast before you. A soft whimper left your parted lips, your feet scrambling backwards - nearly slipping on the small pools of water and wet mud and blood mix - from the beast.

It was big, hairy, dangerous. It's haunting orange eyes pinned you to your spot, a raccoon caught in the sacks of waste until you shook your head, snapping out of it.

You swung the heavy metal candlestick once more, the lip now making contact. A sickening crack against the beast's strong jaw, a jerk of its head to the side, you now had a good view of its rows of fangs in the dim candlelight.

A scream left you, your feet turning you and your legs guiding you without your mind's permission. You heard the beast roar behind you, attempting to give chase only for the snarls to fade away as the moonlight did behind a dark cloud.

You were further into the temple, back where you were noticeably not allowed. Desks full of parchments, empty boxes, and packages that used to be holding bottles of water and wine, bread crumbs and stains into the wood of the desks and into the floors.

Coins piled up neatly into certain stacks from donations.

You closed the door behind you, hinging it closed with a chair and slowly backing away until your back hit something hard, wet and warm. You could feel it moving behind you, shaking and trembling while dripping and soaking the back of your clothing.

Two hands roughly grabbed your shoulders, and with a loud yelp that echoed throughout the temple, you were turned to face the person behind you.

From the dim light barely peeking through the windows behind the figure, you made out the broad shoulders and messy dark hair to be Jesse McCree.

Your Jesse McCree.

"Jesse?" you whimpered.

"(Y/n)?" he murmured under his hoarse breath.

He looked dazed and confused. He looked like he was not even himself, but as if he was being controlled. You could see the struggle in his eyes. Something was gravely wrong, something with him.

"Jesse," you called to him. You placed your cold, clammy hands on his wet cheeks, thumbs stroking against his cheekbones that seemed too sharp to be your Jesse's cheekbones. You stared into his eyes, shaking his head and angling it so he was looking down at you with hollow eyes. "Jesse are you in there?"

"(Y/n)," he mumbled. He started to shake again in your hold. He leaned into your touch, his hands coming u to lace on top of yours. They were warm, hot even. He squeezed them tightly, so tight that you whimpered in pain. A deep growl resignated from the back of his throat, your fingers carding into the thick hair on his jaw. He seemed to snap out of his gaze, yanking your hands out of from his facial hair, he looked down at you in fear. "No, no no no. Darlin'," he started as he shook your hands and forced you to look him in the eyes, "it ain't safe here. Darlin', it ain't safe," he crooned.

"Jesse, there is something in here," you whimpered as you looked behind you.

You felt Jesse let go of you, slowly backing away from you.

When you looked back to him, your jaw dropped. You were now finally noticing Jesse as a whole. He wore no trenchcoat nor cotton shirt, no leather boots protecting his feet and his trousers were completely torn apart. He was soaking wet, his hair was a mess, he looked like a rabid animal that was ready to hurt you.

You felt your chest sink, your stomach tie into knots.

You knew what had happened.

You backed away, you whimpered, your eyes welled with tears.

"Darlin', ya gotta go," Jesse winced, stumbling and managing to steady himself on one of the desks. "Get out."

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the dark clouds slowly starting to peel off of the moon, a ray of her moonlight had shined through the open window and crept up to you and Jesse who was backing away from it like it was fire until he was coated in the moonlight.

You turned to the door and fumbled with the chair, your hands shaking as you heard Jesse cough and cry out in pain behind you. He started yelling, screaming as you heard him collapse to the ground.

With a few forceful tugs on the chair's arm, the chair groaned as it was forcefully moved out of the way. You fumbled with the lock, pushed on the door a few times only for it to not move. With a short cry, you threw your weight against the door only for it to stand still. You pushed the door gently, the door only opening a crack, but it was enough for you to see that it was barred shut.

Your heart jumped into your throat, someone was there. Someone locked you in there with Jesse. Someone wanted you dead.

You turned back to see Jesse on the floor on his hands and knees, his hands and fingers coated in his long dark hair as he yanked on it, howling and shouting in agony. In the darkness and the pale moonlight, you spotted his nails slowly peeling away from his cuticles before splitting apart as if his nails were wet parchment. You watched as sharp claws started to protrude from the cuts where the nails used to be.

With wide eyes, you watch as the form in front of you slowly swell with fur and muscle. Its limbs became longer, suiting the torso the had grown with them. Each part of the vertebrae cracked violently, popping through the tight skin one by one until there was a long line of large bumps down its sweaty, tanned and tattoed back. Each limb slowly becoming thicker in muscle mass while the bones had tried to stretch around the limbs, failing miserably which made an awful tearing noise as the skin fell to the ground in sweaty clumps as fur slowly grew strand by thick strand from his raw flesh.

Just the noises made you want to vomit. They sent bone-rattling shivers down your spine and through your body. They made you wince as you prayed to the Astrals that this was just some horrible dream, a fever dream, something.

But as the groans and growls became gurgled and lodged in its throat, its vocal cords had decided it was the time to rip in half.

Sickening pops and cracks came from within his body, his head jerked back to exposed his that was breaking apart just under his skin while hair started to grow in abundance across his body. His hands gripped the armrests of the chair, his fingertips sank into the wood until they were slowly pushed away from the wood by thick black claws protruding from his fingertips. His head jerked back into place to reveal a face different than the one that belonged to your lover.

He looked as if a wolf was trying to become a human.

Sickly golden eyes staring from the dark, out to you as a growl fell from his lips as if it were his own drool. Long, chocolate brown hair spilled over his shoulders, his ears poked through in small points that were hidden in ashen-brown fur.

Saliva dripped down from beneath his fangs, dripping and slipping through from the splits from where the transformation had made his teeth look that of a monster’s. His heavy jaw split open, a pointed tongue pushed back into his mouth as a roar rumbled through him.

Jesse suddenly shot up, rolling over onto his stomach before pushing himself off of the floor. You watched on with a horror-filled face, watching as he slowly raised to his full height. His claws scraping against the wood as he shuffled to stand up straight, thick wolf-like legs moving about and pushing away anything in their path so he could stand up to his full potential.

You felt the color drain from your face as soon as he was now standing up straight, panting like a wild dog. He chuffed and snuffled with his new dog-like nose a bit before opening his eyes, the large golden orbs rolling forward and a thin pupil thinning even more once his eyes were fully open.

Jesse head slowly tilted back and his jaw unhinged, a low, heavy and loud howl rang from his throat and echoed throughout the empty temple.

You screamed, attempting to ram your body weight back into the door, the wood cracking a bit, but not enough for it to break under your weight. You let out a cry as you heard him starting to scrabble towards you, snarling and growling as he lumbered towards you on his two lanky legs, claws scraping into the wood.

You stared right into his golden eyes, fear plastering over your features as his jaw unhinged, he was hungry and you were right in front of him.

You cried out for help, banging on the door until it slipped from you. You fell to the floor and were hauled away from the room by the collar of your clothing before the door slammed closed and the bar fell back into place. Jesse howled, scratching at the door before he stormed away, glass crashed and soon enough, no sounds resonated through the temple.

You peered up, and in the darkness, you saw a man with long, raven black hair looking down at you, a bow strung over his shoulders and his clothing tattered and soiled with mud. His dark eyes narrowed on you, his thin lips pulled into a frown.

"You must be the one he will not cease speaking about," the man huffed. You nodded, pushing away the hair from your sticky face with a shaking hand. You kept eye contact with the man, jaw dropping a bit in fear of the man who simply crouched, placing both of his large hands on his knees as he looked down at you, his eyes searching. "What is your name?"

"(Y/n) (L/n), I own the tavern down the road." You scrambled to stand up and grabbed his hands, squeezing as you pleaded with your eyes. "Please, tell me everything that happened to him."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry there was no update!

The man hoisted you up by your collar before ushering you out, his large calloused hands pressing against your shoulders as he pushed you out of the temple.

"Who locked you in there?" the man questioned as he closed the temple door behind him.

"I-I don't know, I just..."

"You mean to tell me that you have no clue who your enemies are? The enemies that will not hesitate to bar the door if you were in a room with a dangerous animal?" the man questioned as his eyes narrowed under the curtain of ebony hair that was hiding some of his face to you.

"I'm sorry, no I do not," you shook your head.

The two of you turned a corner to see a group of five individuals standing there, their eyes all on you two.

"You mentioned you own the tavern down the road? We have an injured man," the next to you questioned as he raised a thick brow.

You nodded and hurried down the stairs, hurrying down the road with the rest behind you.

* * *

Your parents were overjoyed upon seeing six people trailing behind you, all of them looking as if they need a few days rest. Hanzo - as you learned his name on the way back from his battered brother moaning it - simply tossed them a nice-sized sack of coins to which your father snatched up before it could hit the floor.

You lead them up the creaking ladder, and to your surprise, the large man in heavy armor somehow managed to climb up it without breaking it. You quickly lead them down the hallway and opened up two of the rooms, debating if you should just open up one more room for the injured brother until Hanzo carried his brother into one of the rooms and laid his down on the bed.

"Do you wish for another room?" you murmured the question.

The five looked around to each other before Hanzo shook his head.  
"Two rooms will do," he muttered as he shrugged off his bow and tattered quiver from his shoulder.

"Would you like a wax candle? A lantern? A Bible and cross and rosary for the night so any of you may pray?" you offered as you looked down the hallway at the few trunks lined up against the wall.

"A few wax candles and lanterns, we have our own talismans," the old woman smiled at you from under her white bangs.

You nodded and trekked down the hall, you could hear the rest file into the other room that was unoccupied, leaving the brothers in the other room.

Producing the heavy lead key from your apron, you opened the farthest right chest and retrieved three metal lanterns all with newly replaced candles inside. You reached back in and took two small boxes of tinder matches and slipped them into the pocket of your apron before locking the chest closed. You then unlocked the middle chest and slipped six small wac candles from the full chest and bunched them into your arms before slipping them into some of your many other pockets on your apron.

You placed the three metal lanterns on top of the chests, locking the center chest. You slipped a few matches from one of the tinderboxes and quickly flicked it across the rough metal surface of one the lantern, striking a small flame that lit the freshly coated wickers in all three lanterns. You walked into the two rooms, placing one lantern down on the empty dresser by the door and placed the box of tinder matches next to it for the first room and then the rest on top of the empty dresser in the other room. You produced the last tinderbox and placed it down next to the lantern before placing all six candles next to the lantern, but not touching as to keep the candles from melting on the wood.

"Do you need anything? Food? Bandages? Water and rags?" you asked Hanzo.

"Water and rags. We have our own bandages," he huffed as he reached into his pocket and produced a roll of clean bandages wrapped up neatly into a coil.

You nodded and the entered the other room to find the large man and the small man already asleep and snoring on the bed. The old woman sat in the chair by the window reading a thin book with a title written in a different language and the other man sat on the foot of the bed rifling through his bags.

"Do you need anything? Food? Bandages? Water and rags to clean yourselves up?" you asked the two still awake.

"Do you have whiskey?" the man questioned you, stopping and looking you in the eye.

You don't know why, but you felt intimidated by his steel blue gaze.

You nodded and bit your lip before looking at the woman.

"And you, ma'am?"

"Water and rags, please."

* * *

 

The metal pails of water tugged on your shoulders that currently housed the rags, your apron was heavy with the bottle of whiskey and weighed you down a bit as you slowly climbed the ladder. You don't know why, but you still quickly climbed it as if Jesse was still hiding above and your parents did not know a thing. You nearly spilled the water on the wooden floorboards when you stumbled, Hanzo snatching up your arms and hoisting you up before slipping one of the pails of water from your grasp and the pile of rags sitting on your right shoulder.

"Thank you," you hummed.

Hanzo simply grunted and trekked back down the hallway to his room where he closed the door.

You slipped into the other room and placed the metal pail down in front of the woman, handed her the rags and slipped the bottle of whiskey to the man who quickly popped the cork and gulped it down as if it were the finest batch of liquor in the land.

"Thank you," the old woman hummed as she eyed you from under her bangs.

As you turned to leave, you saw her brush the hair away to reveal a black patch over her eye. Was she blind in that eye? Was it missing? Jesse mentioned she was an alchemist, maybe it was a magic eye.

You entered the room that housed the brothers to see a pile of now bloody rags sitting in an empty metal pail that once was filled with water. The younger brother had bandages wrapped around his thin frame, you could spot the fading scars on his body before Hanzo tossed a blanket over his sleeping brother's body.

"I am guessing he is alright?" you questioned Hanzo, taking the pail away from his feet in case he trips.

"For now. I will need to redress the wounds later, but for now, he rests and so shall I." Hanzo stood up straight and turned away from you, only turning his head to look over his shoulder, his curtain of ebony locks swaying and spilling over his broad shoulders as his eyes narrowed and eyebrows rising on his forehead. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Jesse. How did you know I was trapped in the temple with Jesse? What is Jesse now? What will happen to him? Is he still in the temple or is he somewhere else?" you rambled, the metal pail slipping from your shaking fingers and clattered to the ground. The soiled rags slapped on the wooden floorboards, but no liquid seeped through them. You gripped onto Hanzo's broad shoulders, squeezing so hard that your palms ached from his armor. "Please. What happened to Jesse McCree?"  
Hanzo sighed and looked down at the floorboards. He licked his chapped lips and then looked back at you, his narrowed eyes softening as he studied you.

"He was bitten by a werewolf saving my life," he murmured into the quiet room. You let go of his shoulders, but kept your gaze pinned on him. "We did not expect the Count to have werewolves. He let them loose, they chased us through the halls and forests in the mountains. One had chased me to the edge of the mountainside, I nearly died if it were not for Jesse. He shot it, pushed me aside, the werewolf bit him and dragged him down into the river below." Hanzo slumped down into the chair by the bed and looked over at his brother with hollow eyes. "He should have let me die."

"Hanzo-"

"He should have!" Hanzo spat as he stood up quickly, the chair squeaking. You took a quick step away from the angry archer, watching him with wide eyes. Hanzo uncoiled, sulking back down into the chair and leaning forward until his elbows rested on his knees. He placed his face in his large hands, his charcoal black locks hiding his face. "We will speak of this in the morning." He sat back in the chair but kept his gaze off of you. "You need rest with what happened with you earlier."

You nodded and took slow steps out of the room, making sure to close the door behind you.

* * *

The six of them huddled around the small table, eyes pinned before them on the map laying still on the table. Genji eyed you cautiously from his spot on the bed, eyebrows pinned up in worry before he slowly trailed his eyes back down to the map.

You sat on the floor in front of the closed door. Over your lap sat Jesse's bags. Your fingers tangled in his clothing, dragging them up to your nose for a quick sniff of his smokey scent. It warmed you deep inside with every sniff you took. His hat sat beside you, the leather was cold. His gun was tucked away into a spare holster in one of the bags along with boxes of bullets and bottles of holy water and multiple crucifixes and other monster hunting equipment.

"Where do you think he is?" Jack murmured as his old eyes scanning the map before him.

"He could not have gone far," Hanzo stated. "He was attracted to (Y/n), he would have stayed near if he had truly broken out of the temple."

"I say we check the river. He may have gone back for something? To see about that other werewolf perhaps for clues?"

"Perhaps," Hanzo hummed as he scratched at his beard. You could feel his gaze on you, but you never lifted your eyes from the leather hat in your hands. "You should come... Just in case he needs you," he suggested softly.

You slowly nodded and stood up, your legs hurting from sitting on the ground. You only took the hat with you, keeping it close to your chest. You followed the group out of the inns, down the ladder, and out of the tavern, along the cobblestone roads and under the raised gates until you bumped into Reinhardt's back. You peeked out from Reinhardt's shoulder only to drop the hat as well as your jaw.

"Jesse," you whimpered.

There was Jesse right down the cobblestone road, limping and trudging, his large hands clawing at his naked body to stay warm. He had only enough of his trousers to cover his genitals, but even that left little to the imagination.

You all stood there, watching on in shock as Jesse continued to limp towards you all before he stopped.

His dark hair clung to his face with sweat, skin with raw red patches against his tanned skin, dark circles around his chocolate brown eyes. He stared at you with dazed confusion, the corner of his lips pulling up into a lazy smirk, body chuffing out an airy huff.

"I don' know how I lived through that, but I won' be alive when I get back to the capital," Jese wheezed.

Jesse's eyes rolled to the back of his head, his body falling limp and crashing into the ground.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last five hundred words or so are in Jesse's P.O.V.  
> You'll see the split!

You swore your parents' eyes would turn to large golden coins from the burlap sack Reinhardt set on the bar's countertop, coins actually spilling out from a slit in the fabric and the coins clattering onto the stone floors. Three inn rooms for three weeks with food and alcohol included was what Reinhardt had ordered for the seven of them, even requesting that it was you who served them all and not your siblings or parents.

And that was where you were, in Jesse's room with just the sleeping man in the large bed. Hanzo and Ana would occasionally step in to aid you before trekking back to their room. You were alone with Jesse.

It was cold in the room, but you made sure Jesse was warm under all of the pelts and furs and blankets you had piled on top of his body. Only the sounds of his ragged breathing and harsh coughs every now and again filled the room, otherwise, it was quiet enough for you to hear the mice outside squeak.

You slowly sat down on the bed right next to Jesse, your hand coming up to his long hair spilled out to the sides of his head and draping over his shoulders. Your nails combed through the thick, grimy strands, fingers getting stuck in clumps of mud and large knots. You even found pieces of wood and a single leaf in his hair, but it was mostly mud and knots and a few dead flies here and there. You even combed your fingers through his beard, even taking small thread scissors to the facial to keep it well kept, but there was only so much you could do.

You made sure to wash him well when he wakes up... Whenever he wakes up that is...

Jesse had not woken up for the past two days, and all of you were getting restless. You would all crowd around Jesse's seemingly lifeless body whenever a harsh cough racked his body, only to sit back when Jesse's eyes would stay clamped.

There were no wounds to dress, no scratches to clean, no blood to wipe off of his tanned skin. He was clean of both grime and injury.

After the second day, you grew fed up with the scent coming off of Jesse's body and you knew your parents would be furious if they found out that Jesse had been asleep for three days, thinking that he was dead and you were covering it because you were in love with him.

You brought up a full metal pail of water and a few rags tucked under your arm. You threw off the blankets, furs and quilts and all, looking at Jesse and dropping your shoulders.

You could not just wash Jesse on the bed, your parents would somehow find out and you would be down the well in trouble. So instead, you called for Reinhardt who simply propped him up on one the chairs as a solution, not even questioning Jesse's lack of undergarments on his crotch besides a simple pair of trousers you had stolen from your brother.

As soon as Reinhardt had closed the door, you got to work on Jesse's body. You started with his chest, scrubbing against his chest hair with a rag until you were sure all of the dirt and grime was off of his chest before going for his arms. Working your way down his left arm, you stopped at his hand to see that he no longer sported any small scars on his palm or fingers. It looked as if no wounds have overcome his hand. You quickly snatched up his other hand, murmuring curses to yourself as no scars were found on said hand.

You took a deep breath and went back to scrubbing Jesse's body. The right arm, his neck, stomach, back, legs and feet. You debated with yourself, chewing on your bottom lip in thought. Should you remove Jesse's trousers and wash his crotch, genitals?

No.

You shook your head, clearing away the cloudy thoughts that fogged up your mind.

Instead, you dropped your rag into the pail of water and pushed it until it was behind Jesse, right below his head. You brought up your last clean rack and dunked it into the water, wrung it out, and started to scrub at his face and beard. Massaging the cloth against his chiseled face, along all of his features. You stood up, the cloth slipping from your hand into the water pail below, water splashing out and onto your feet.

Your eyes were pinned to his lips slightly parted. You could see his straight teeth inside. You had an urge to press your lips to his, to kiss him, to wake him as if this was a fairy tale your father would tell for you before bed.

You leaned in, lips hovering over his. You could feel his cold breath gently brush up against your warm lips, his cold breath nipping at your waiting lips.

You pulled away, shaking your head.

This was wrong. You should not do this. This was no fairy tale, no work of fiction for children. You should not just kiss him like this, when he is ill, knocked out by some curse.

You instead walked around, slipped your fingers into the pail of water and lifted the rag from the water, tightening your fingers around the rag and allowing the water to drain. You brought the rag up to his hair, combing your fingers through and then gliding the rag through his long locks that reminded you of the darkest, juiciest wine.

Muddy water started to pour from his drenched locks into the pail below. You kept your eyes on his hair, not on his body or his hands hanging or his head or face or anything. Eyes pinned to his hair as you gently combed your fingers through the knots, untangling them all carefully without pulling on his head.

You stopped when no mud nor dead insects fell from his locks, stepping away and looking over him one more time before your lips pulled into a small, satisfied smile.

You could not help yourself however, your body leaning forward and lips puckering only to press them to his warm forehead. Your lips were heated when you pulled them away, your eyes lingering down to his peaceful face.

You pulled back from Jesse when you heard the floorboards behind you creak, and turning, you spotted Genji looking at you and Jesse in the chair.

"How is he doing?" Genji murmured, his voice soft and weak. He pushed himself from the doorway and stumbled into the room only to catch himself on the bed. He stood beside you on shaking legs, watching Jesse's sleeping form. "Hanzo said he was bitten by a werewolf and fell off of a cliff into the river, and that he cornered you in a locked room in the temple." He eyed you from the corner of his eye. "Has he really been sleeping for these days past?"

"He has."

"Did he really... Was he truly bitten?"

"Yes," you whimpered.

"I have known Jesse for some time," Genji stated as he sat back on the bed, staring off blankly in Jesse's direction, "and to know now that he is the same thing he has sworn to hunt... it is a hefty strike to his name."

"What will happen to him?"

"If we do not find a cure for him, he will be hunted down by other hunters from his organization." Genji's eyes did not even flinch or blink, just stayed open, looking directly at Jesse. "Jesse had to hunt down a friend from his childhood. He was turned into a ghoul, and it was Jesse's job to slay him. It... took a toll on him."

"Where is the cure? What is it? Is it something I can simply purchase from a merchant or a witch or-"

"I do not know. But if it is a witch that is to cure Jesse's curse, there are barely any witches with kind hearts out there that are willing to do it for a hunter. If word gets out that a hunter was cured by a witch, both of them will be hunted. No witch will take that chance."

"What if he never goes back? What if he stays here with me?"

"He will still be hunted, to make sure he truly is deceased. If he is not, he will be hauled back. They will find out about his curse, and he will die by their hands."

Your heart throbbed with pain in your chest. Jesse was going to die if you didn't find a cure for him. He would die if he were to stay with you. He would die if nothing was done to cure him.

"Help me lay him back on the bed, please," you murmured, your words shaking and trembling on your tongue.

Genji nodded, pushed himself up from the bed with a groan before sliding his pale, scarred hands under Jesse's bare arms. Genji was taken back by his skin, at the lack of scars.

"They will truly know something is wrong with him by the lack of scars."

You grabbed a hold of Jesse's legs and hoisted him up as Genji raised Jesse up by his armpits, helping you waddle your ways towards the bed, hoist him up and onto the padded pelts and blankets. Genji stood by your side, looking down at Jesse laying down peacefully resting, watching as his eyelids flutter while he dreamt.

"What are we going to do?"

"I will do everything in my power to make sure he does not die. I will search for a curse, I will do all I can to cure him. I owe him much more than he could ever imagine."

"Thank you."

* * *

 

It was night, darkness poured into the rooms from the open windows allowing the cool air into every room. The tavern below was rowdy and loud, you could hear tankards clanking and stories being told. You cringed when you heard glass breaking below your feet.

You peered over to Jesse still lying down, your eyelids feeling heavy and your throat sore from your constant pleas.

Two more days had gone by, and still, Jesse had not woken up, he had not even moved an inch. The only time he really did move was when you would have him moved to the chair so you could wash him twice a day and then to move him so he could lay back down on the bed.

You had taken the small thread scissors and tried to keep his beard - and now hair - their original length. You had checked over his body multiple times to see that no scars had faded back into his skin, but with no avail, he was left clean. His face and body had thinned a bit, cheekbones and finger bones more visible now as the layers of thin fat had faded from not eating. You would hear his stomach growl every now and again. You did your best to try and feed him, but his jaw seemed to be clamped tight, you could only get broth from soups and water from the well into his mouth.

You reached out a trembling hand and carefully lifted his left hand, grasping it firmly and curling your fingers around it. His hand was stiff and cold to the touch despite the blankets and pelts.

"Come back to me, Jesse," you whimpered as you squeezed his hand tighter. "Show me a sign that you are still you, that you are still alive. A blink, a cough, a groan, maybe squeeze my hand right now so I know you are here with me, that you can hear me."

You held on to your patience, eyes widening as they were plastered to his hand covered with yours. You prayed that his fingers would curl around the back of your hand and squeeze it tightly. You prayed he would at least gasp, maybe cough or wheeze...

But you got nothing.

With a soft sigh, you let go of Jesse's hand and turned away from him, letting his hand drape off of the bed. You stared down at the floorboards, peeking through the cracks and gaps between each board at the full tavern below your feet. You could make out stories and even a familiar face: Reinhardt.

The large man was sitting in the middle of a large, drunken crowd with a full stein of beer in his bare white hand. No armor braced his skin, he was only wearing some clean trousers and a shirt that was obviously too tight for his hulking form. His eyes were wide, his single iris scanning the crowd as a story of one of his battles with a dragon raged from his mouth. White hair wild and beard full and moving his jaw just as quickly as he was running through his story about how he pummeled the dragon on top of a castle back in Eichanwalde with his large hammer to save a princess. The drunks around him laughed, roared with excitement and some even scoffed and stumbled away in their drunken states.

"He has not woken up yet, still?" Ana's voice resonated from your side.

You glanced to the doorway to see the alchemist was leaning against the doorway, her single eyes trained on you.

"Sadly not. I am worried for him though," you murmured.

"We all are, (Y/n)." Ana placed an aging hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently. "We will pay for more time here if that is what needed. We still one week left here."

You nodded, eyeing Jesse one last time before hoisting yourself up from the bed.

"I should go get everyone something to eat."

Ana still stood by Jesse, looking over his features with her one good eye and smiled softly at him, most likely wishing that his dreams were sweet and safe.

As you descended the ladder behind the bar, the door slammed open and caught everyone's attentions and even halted Reinhardt's story in the middle of his sentence.

It was a guard, tattered clothing and missing armor, a broken weapon still clutched in his hand.

"Monsters! Monsters are coming for our village!" he shouted.

"Monsters?" Reinhardt scoffed as he stood up. "Poor bastards will not know the meaning of pain until I get to them!"

Reinhardt nudged you to the side and quickly climbed the ladder to most likely get his armor and to warn the others.

You could all hear the screams of the other guards from the open door.

* * *

 

"What is going on down there, Reinhardt?" Ana questioned.

He could feel her warm, boney hand combing through his hair, nails digging into his scalp like his mother did all those years ago.

"Monsters are attacking the village!" he could hear Reinhardt boom.

His eyes burned, his body was stiff, he felt ravenous. It felt like something was stuck in his chest and it was trying to claw its way out. A burning anger blooming inside of him, ready to burst through.

Why can he not open his eyes?

He heard a storm of feet quickly march down a wooden floor corridor. A presence left the room as well, the hand scratching through his hair was gone now.

He heard arguing below him, women and men both. Glass shattering and metal being banged on. It hurt his head, his temples throbbing and eyes burning inside of his eyelids.

Why can he not open his eyes?

His shoulder burned, his lips were cracked, his throat felt as if it were on fire. His chest ached so much. He wanted to take a knife to it and rip out whatever was in there with his bare hands.

Hands.

His hands.

He felt his fingers twitch, slowly curling around a blanket that was underneath him. It was warm, he was warm.

How long was he laying here?

It should not have been long... Right? He felt clean...

Jesse groaned, parting his lips slightly. His mouth was as dry as his home village and the land it laid upon. He missed that blistering sun and the sand. He would have loved to take you there...

You...

(Y/n)!

Where were you? Where was he? These blankets and pelts felt familiar... The tavern, your family's inn. He missed you. That clawing feeling inside of him, was it for you? He loved you. He stills loves you. He wished he could open his eyes to see if you still kept the ring on.

Where were you? Why were you not by his side? Are you safe from outside? In that small room you like to go to to get away from everything? Jesse missed you.

The screaming grew louder, more frequent, closer. His hands balled up the blankets, fists shaking. He needed to get down there.

A fiery anger boiled inside of him. He wanted to protect you. He needed to protect you.

His ears strained, he listened. He couldn't find you, and yet, your sweet scent still burned in his nose like his cigar do. Another groan pushed its way past his lips, feet and legs gliding across the bed and blankets.

He tilted his head back, mouth opening to gasp at the cold air spilling into the room as his hair clung to his sweaty face.

He was in agony.

The anger and hatred in his chest on swelling the more he thought of you.

"(Y/n)," he murmured.

"Jesse?" he heard someone call for him.

He heard light footsteps at the doorway, Genji scent filling his nose.

Another groan left Jesse as his back arched.

An ear piercing scream deafened him, a short gasp follow by a loud growl emitted from Jesse as he clutched his head with both hands. Your scream. You were screaming. A scream of his own tore through his throat as he sat up, eyes opening up as his mind snapped.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in Jesse's P.O.V.

"Lay back!" Genji pleaded as he pressed both hands into Jesse's shoulders. 

"(Y/n)!" Jesse choked out as he clawed at the blankets and pelts.

He heard someone barreling down the hall, the door swinging open and cracking into the wood. Rushed footsteps revealed Hanzo who was now forcing Jesse to lay down. Jesse's mind was snapping, vision clouding with dark blankets to hide his sight. His legs kicked out from under him, the brothers struggling to keep him down as Jesse's body started to shake and tremble, twitching and seizing.

"What happened? Why is he awake? Why is he like this?" Hanzo shouted over Jesse's choked snarls.

"He heard (Y/n) scream!" Genji shouted back as his scarred fingers pressed deeper into Jesse's skin.

Hanzo's hair fell over his face, sharp teeth baring as he wheezed, pressing all of his bulky weight onto Jesse to keep him down.

Jesse's vision was failing him, cutting out and swaying as if he were drunk. Saliva and bile flew from his mouth as he let out a pained scream, bones popping and crunching inside of him. Sweat laid across his seizing body like a thin sheet meant for heated summer nights. His left arm jutted out, snatching at Hanzo's jaw and squeezed it tighter than Jesse had squeezed you closer to him in a fiery kiss. Hanzo gagged and tried to pull back at the sight of Jesse's morphing hand.

Skin graying, knuckles popping and crackling like fire, nails peeling off and splitting like wet parchment to show off pointed claws growing from his skin. His veins were pumping, throbbing, poking out from the surface of his skin, a vibrant blue-ish purple that takes over the sky when the sun starts to set, when the bright fat moon rises into the sky.

* * *

 

With an unknown force rushing through Jesse, he launched Hanzo back, his back hitting the wall and cracking the wooden boards. The archer fell to the ground, managing to catch himself with hands but coughed, shoulders shaking and raven hair falling in front of his face.

Jesse snatched at Genji's neck, flipping him over until Jesse's hulking mass was hovering over Genji, a hand now wrapped tightly around the ninja's neck and clamping down. Genji choked, scratching at Jesse's snapping fingers and attempting to push him away.

Sadly he got nowhere.

Jesse snarled, baring fangs at the ninja below him, saliva starting to drip down from his curled in lips and onto his face in warm, fat drops. His eyes were starting to flutter shut, his nails had stopped pressing into Jesse's skin. Jesse could feel his heart slowing down.

An enraged roar caught Jesse off guard, something hard smacking him in the back of his skull before it was wrapped under his jaw, points poking into his thick neck and throat. Jesse was torn off of Genji, his claws slicing thin cuts into his skin before he was tossed to the door.

Jesse grasped the doorframe, hoisting himself up but stumbling on his shifting feet. His vision swayed, bile and saliva dripped down his chin and beard, his stomach churned. He could not focus, he could not control the anger swelling in his chest.

His head flew back, saliva spewing from his mouth with a violent cough. His claws sank into the doorframe, wood cracking to fit around his thick claws. He attempted to keep himself up, but he fell to his hands and knees.

Even with only so little moonlight pouring over his skin, it felt even worse than it did that night that felt so close behind him.

With a shiver crawling down his spine, he could feel his skin slowly force out every single strand of hair it could. Dark brown fur slowly cascading down in thick strands, covering his tanned skin in thick patches.

Something was wrong though.

The fur was not fully covering his body, stopping around his abdomen, leaving patches of gray skin bare and open to the cold wind inside of the inn. He was growing, but not like the last time. He was not huge, a massive lumbering figure with a wolf's head. He was just bigger than he was, some more muscles and elongated limbs. But most importantly, he was still conscious.

Jesse stumbled, back cracking as he craned his neck to the side, dark hair spilling over his shoulder and hanging loosely in the air. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the stained glass window, the bright moon illuminating and highlighting the faded colors that made up the old glass.

The moon was not full, but the moon's bright light swayed his mind, his body lurching forward. The window grew larger and closer as Jesse absent-mindedly raced forward on his clawed feet. He could see his glowing eyes in the reflection, his whole body even. The sharp fangs, monstrous body, ripped trousers he had no idea how they got on his person.

He screwed his glowing eyes shut and braced his face with his forearms.

Glass shattered. He felt the shards break through his skin, but he felt no pain. he didn't even feel the blood leak from his skin and onto his fur.

Cold wind blew back his fur and hair before his body was met with the cold, wet stone ground.

Jesse stood up to his full height, eyes peeling open and rolling forward as his ears strained at the sounds of screams and wails. His eyes searched through the terrified faces of the villagers, searching for the threat, but he was most importantly looking for you.

He spotted his allies slumped to the ground, bloodied and battered. Armor scratched and dented, torn open even as Ana was trying to tend to everyone's wounds. No sight of you with them at all.

However, there was something deceased before them. A large figure, larger than Reinhardt by just a few hairs. Green skin torn open by the thick brown stitches, gray insides spilled onto the cobblestone and yellow liquids seeping from its mouth and eyes and pig-like nose. Electricity crackled as its fingers continued to twitch.

But then he spotted a lean figure holding a squirming figure in its clutches. Jesse could smell its fear from where he stood. It was if he sniffed poison right from the bottle, it burned his nose and his senses, worse than the people fleeing around him. He heard their soft whimpers and pleas as they struggled. That sweet, sweet voice that made the fur on the back of his neck prickle and stand up on its ends.

He snarled, flashing his sharp white fangs at the figure and narrowed his yellow eyes.

That scent of fear barely held onto your sweet scent, the fear poisoning it, ruining it like an inexperienced hunter on its first rabbit kill.

He barreled towards the figure on his hind legs, claws scratching deep cracks into the stone and mud.

The figure was taller than him. Pale gray skin and large white eyes and white hair sliced to her thin shoulders. She looked to be risen right from the grave.

She bared gnarled yellow fangs had dripped putrid saliva, your face twisted in revolt as you tried to push yourself away from her by her shoulders, but your hands and nails digging into her skin did nothing to help you. Another whimper left you as her tongue slipped from between her cracked, veiny lips to glide up the column of your neck.

Jesse snatched up the woman by her neck, her long fingers dropping you to the ground as she gasped. No pulse beat from her thin neck. Jesse snarled and squeezed her neck tighter, lifting her up from the ground and up into the air. The undead woman kicked the air, choking and scratching at his hand like Genji had done moments prior.

The woman quickly vanished into smoke, his hand curled in on itself as if her neck was not just a place-holder just a few seconds earlier.

Jesse's ears strained, a snarl leaving her curled in lips as he looked down at you quivering on the ground, looking up at him with wide, terrified eyes. You looked as if you would piss yourself if he snapped his hefty jaws at you.

A soft whine rumbled through his throat, a grumble breaking from his lips as he felt his heart pound against his chest. He backed up a bit, still looking at you with sorrowful eyes.

You were afraid. You were afraid of not only that woman, but you were also afraid of him.

"J-J-Jes-se?" you stuttered out as tears fell from your cheeks.

Your fingers clawed at the stone and dirt, nails scratched and cracked, fingertips bloodied and torn. You backed away from him, clawing and tearing your way backward while keeping your eyes pinned on... over his shoulder?

Jesse turned his head, barely catching a glimpse of the gray woman behind him before she surged forward, a screeching wail that threatened to burst his ears leaving her veiny lips. Her long yellowed claws scratched at his fur, tearing skin and leaving stinging cuts on Jesse's back that made him snarl in pain.

He swung, his own dark claws slashing through the air and cracking and ripping at her chest, blood flying from her chest as fabric fell to the ground. She wailed, black tears clouding her white eyes and dripping down her hollow gray cheeks. Jesse swung again, the back of his furry palm almost colliding with her face before she vanished into yet another cloud of dark smoke.

Jesse heard something creaking, something flying through the air. He felt his hair blow back from the right side of his head, something nearly slicing his extended cheekbone before a sickening crack sounded out from right behind him. His nose carved through the air as his yellow eyes widened at the sight of the banshee standing there, an arrow right in between her eyes, possibly protruding from the back of her skull as her white locks were already starting to dye red.

The pale woman slowly tipped back, legs and knees buckling under her small weight before her body completely collapsed to the ground.

Jesse sneered, a puff of cold steam jutting from in between his fangs. A triumphant huff, in fact, as his furry chest seemed to puff out with pride (despite it not being his kill).

"Jesse?" he heard your shaking voice rattle from below him. "Is that really you?"

"He looks different from a few nights ago," Hanzo coughed. He emerged from the inn's doorway with his bow still bloody from when it was smacked into Jesse's skull. "He still looks like a man... somewhat."

Jesse chuffed again, baring his fangs at Hanzo before he turned to you, seeing you brush yourself off of dust and dirt and small insects.

"He is in control?" you questioned as you eyed the wolfman in front of you warily.

"It seems so." Jesse heard the bowstring creak, an arrow notched. "But we can always be sure."

Jesse did not need to look behind him to know Hanzo was aiming his bow at the back of his head. Jesse snapped his jaws before sulking his hairy shoulders. He stumbled up to you on his feet - that really were not human feet but feet of a wolf - and looked down at you, over his underbite and fangs and dark brown fur into your soft eyes as you seemed to search his soul.

Your hands flew out, carding into the fur that once was his sideburns and drew him close, his lips colliding onto yours. The taste of iron clouded the kiss, his sharp tongue gliding over the newly sliced cuts in your lips, but you refused to disconnect from him.

Jesse growled, his large, humanoid hands cupping your soft cheeks until you finally pulled away.

Jesse's eyes slowly opened only to widen at the now human hand tracing patterns into your soft, delicate skin.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in Gabriel's P.O.V.

Wood shattered, splinters and broken iron nails flying through the air and swiping across the floors. Papers crunched under his boots, tearing the parchment and smudging the still wet blue ink.

His shoulders were shaking, large hands balled up into tight fists (or at least as tight as his black leather gloves would allow without the seams popping). Ragged breathing from behind his bone white mask was the only thing that resonated from the laboratory.

No beakers bubbled, no fires were lit, no electricity crackling or feet pattering. Even Junkenstein himself was sniffling silently in the corner under a desk, curled in on himself as he silently snuffed up the snot back into his nose.

"How hard is it to kill one small group of hunters?" Gabriel hissed, shoulders shaking harsher. Gabriel turned towards the next thing that was near him: A minion who was trembling where it stood. Gabriel's hands snatched up the minion and tossed him through the air as if it were a mere pebble, the minion slamming into the wall and knocking out a few cobbles.  A violent crack, shattering glass from its mask, dark yellow liquids oozing from its head. It laid there dead. "HOW?!" he roared as he spun to face the rest. "HOW HARD IS IT?" Gabriel snatched another minion, his large fingers curling up its dark garments. He drew the minion close to his mask as the minion scrabbled, trying to refuse to look into the Count's eyes. "How hard is it to kill six people? Four of them are old!"

"Seven," a feminine voice chimed from behind him.

Gabriel's shoulders stiffened, rising. The minion lowered just a bit, the tips of shoes barely scraping the cobble ground.

"What?"

"Seven. All seven are still alive," she hummed as her heels clacked on the stone.

Gabriel tossed the minion to his feet, the poor thing scrabbling away from Gabriel into the crowd of other minions surrounding. Gabriel turned to the witch who eyed him without care. He stomped up to her, his chest in her face as he slowly bent down until his breath would have touched her lips if there was no bone mask in the way.

"There are six," he hissed. "The one from the south went over the cliff with a lycan and plunged into icy water."

"He survived."

"How?!"

"He was bitten, he survived it and managed to pull himself out of the river and right back to that little village."

Gabriel growled, stomping away from the witch as his leather trenchcoat fluttered behind him. His hands slammed down on another desk, inkwells falling over, some spilling ink that leaked onto his fingers.

What could be at that village that drew him there? It could not have just been his comrades that he went after... Right?

Gabriel turned to look over his shoulder. He pointed a sharp finger at Junkenstein who was silently mourning over his first sketch of his monster.

"You," he growled. Junkenstien paid no mind to Gabriel, continuing to mourn over his diagram. Gabriel fumed under his mask. A vicious growl radiated from under his bone mask, his hands clawing at the edge of the desk, hoisting it up and throwing it. It did not shatter, only sliding to enclose Junkenstein into his corner under the desk. "You will answer me when I speak to you!"

Gabriel roared as he stomped his way over to Junkenstein's place under the desk. He tore away the desk blockade (which now shattered when it slammed into a wall) and snatched at Junkenstein's white lab coat, tearing him from his corner and up into the air.

His large nose, once white and gray as wet snow, was now red and dripping snot. His eyes were puffy behind the blue lens of his goggles, it was obvious his eyes were red too. His lips were coated with saliva and snot, puffy and swollen from crying constantly.

"Ma- ma monster," he whimpered as his body wracked with shaking sobs.

"I don't care about your disgusting monster," Gabriel snarled as he drew Junkenstein closer to him. "What I care about is why that ingrate hunter would go back to that village. It couldn't have been about his group of hunters, so what could it have been?"

"A-A-A-"

"Spit it out!"

"A partner."

"What kind of partner?"

"A romantic partner," the witch spoke up.

Gabriel looked over his shoulder to see her looking down at a leather-bound journal. A minion covered in melting snow carried a satchel full of something large. In the burlap stitches, something yellow was dripping.

Gabriel dropped Junkenstein who clutched the piece of parchment close to his chest. The minion carried the burlap satchel to Junkenstein who produced the head of his monster.

Junkenstein's face brightened, tears of sadness turned to tears of joy as he snatched the head from the minion's fingers and squeezed it tight to his chest, not caring that his lab coat was slowly becoming drenched in fluids Gabriel did not care to know about.

The witch handed Gabriel the leather-bound journal, his eyes narrowing at the rough sketch of a person, words underneath it written poorly (water damage most likely) he could barely make out as '(Y/n) (L/n), the love of my life.'

On the next page, he could only make out choice words like 'ring', 'partner', 'love of my life', 'marriage'.

Gabriel laughed aloud, the leather journal falling from his grip and clattered onto the floor. The witch simply eyed him from the corner of her eye and picked up the journal.

"What do you plan on doing with them, if you do not mind me asking?"

"Take care of them, of course!" Gabriel wheezed.

Dark cackles erupted from under his bone mask as clapped his leather-clad hands together a few times.

"And how do you plan on that?" she pushed.

Gabriel pointed at the first minion he saw, the minion trembling in his sights.

"Release the dragon," Gabriel ordered in a dark voice, all forms of happiness drained.

The minion scurried away, falling over a few times while Gabriel and the witch followed on its trail down corridors and hallways, through doorways and archways, down stairs and up stairs until they finally came to a halt at an iron door. The minion slowly opened the door and carefully treaded inside while Gabriel and the witch simply closed the door (which was not quiet at all).

A deep grumble from inside the dark room made the minion freeze in its place.

"Go on then, wake the dragon up," the witch cooed.

The witch took the broom in her grasped and struck the top of the pole against the cobbles around her feet, a flame erupting from the wood but not burning it.

The minion slowly inched forward, picking up a heavy metal pole and felt around the air until its fingers grabbed at a fencing. It drew back the metal pole with two hands and swiped, the pole colliding with the fence with a loud bang that made the minion drop the pole which clattered even louder.

A ferocious roar, a burst a fire lit up the room just enough for the three to barely make out orange and purple scales and large wings and spiked tail.

The minion scrambled away from the fence only to be snatched up by its stumpy leg and dragged through the bottom of the fence, the poor creature squealing as if it were a bleeding piglet until a horrifying crunch cut the poor thing off.

Gabriel walked forward, his leather hands yanking down a pair of chains that slowly revealed the outside world to the dragon who was eager to escape.

A small dragon (really a woman cursed to become such a beast) scrabbled at the opening, her wings flapping with glee as a few puffs of flames escaped her mouth. Her tail whipped around, kicking up the boot that remained the only thing left of the poor minion. Gabriel could not help but cackle as he continued to pull at the chains one stroke after another, exposing more and more of the outside world to the dragon.

"Go. The village in the valley. Take care of the hunters that wish to slay me and anyone else who wishes to get in the way," Gabriel ordered. "And do not fail me like the others have." The dragon had finally had enough room to fly out, tail cracking stone as it leapt from the edge. A large cloud of flame and a terrifying screech before the dragon faded into the snow storm outside. Gabriel snatched at the chained fence with one hand, shaking it. "Take care of Jesse McCree and (Y/n) (L/n)! Leave no trace behind!"

Gabriel's other hand let go of the chains dangling down, the chains curling back up quickly, the opening shutting closed with a loud bang that caused the witch to jump behind him.

"Do you think this will work?" the witch murmured.

"Of course it will. And soon, I will not have to worry about Jesse McCree meddling with me ever again."


	13. Chapter 13

A few days had passed since the encounter with the monsters that attacked your village. Everything had calmed down, your parents had not seen Jesse and now the stained glass window had been replaced with no questions asked.

You watched him rest on the cot, your fingers slowly grazing up his tanned skin, fingers dipping into the chasm of his throat, up the tight muscles and nails digging into his hairy chin. Your fingers entwined with the thick brown fibers that made up his facial hair. Jesse hummed, tilting his head back to press his warm skin into your cool fingertips that were still a little wet from the water bucket and rags you cleaned just a few moments ago.

“I love you,” you crooned your other hand came up to rest on Jesse’s chest.

Your fingers tangling in the dark brown forest of curly chest hair that covered a good portion of Jesse’s pectorals that trailed down his stomach and disappeared into his trousers. You considered about sneaking back down to steal a shirt from your father for Jesse to wear. It would be better if you had went out to the market and purchased him a new shirt, you did not want your father to kick them all out of the inn to never return.

Jesse moaned as your cold fingers massaged his tense, raw skin as the hair slowly shrank back under his skin until the forest had been trimmed down. One of Jesse’s large hands came up to cup the back of your hand that scratched at his chest, forcing you to press your palm into his heated skin. Jesse peeked at you from under his messy hair, dark brown eyes narrowing with sleep tugging at his eyelids. The corners of Jesse’s dry lips curled up a bit as your hand relaxed on his chest.

“I love ya too, darlin’,” he drawled softly.

“You only have a few more days here at the inn, and then you will have to leave,” you bit your lip.

“I won’t let that happen, darlin’." 

Jesse’s fingers entwined with yours, squeezing the hand that was still scratching at his chest as his other hand ran up your hip to your shoulder. He grabbed your shirt’s sleeve and gently tugged you down until your elbow hit the soft pelt, and not even a few seconds later, you were laying on top of Jesse. Your noses almost touching, your chin rested on his chest, looking into each other’s eyes.

His eyes, Gods, they were so beautiful. He had the eyes of a charming little puppy too cute to put out on the streets in the pouring icy rainstorm. They were so warm and strong and kind, just like him. The small freckles peppering the skin around his nose and under his eyes from staying out in the sun for so long only made him seem more warm and inviting.

"I do hope it does not happen,” you murmured, keeping your eyes trained on his.

“I won’ let it happen, darlin’.”

Jesse lifted your hand you once hand on his chin, showing you the ring you still wore on your ring finger, shining in the dim candlelight of the lantern sitting not even a yard away on the bedside table. The moonstone was not white in the room, instead, a warm orange like the color of Jesse’s eyes when he…

You slipped your hand out of Jesse’s and cupped his cheek, fingers carding into the thick facial hairs and holding onto it tightly, your thumb tracing patterns into his cheekbone.

You sighed, eyes fluttering closed.

“I could fall asleep just like this with you,” you hummed.

“I wouldn’ mind it at all, darlin’,” he chuckled as both of his hands gripped your waist, fingers kneading the flesh through your clothing.

“I promised my mother I would help her with the party tomorrow for you all for saving the village. She would be upset if I stay in here any longer,” you groaned.

As you attempted to push yourself up from the bed, Jesse’s grip on your waist tightened and your hips never lifted from his. Jesse moaned, it was dark and deep, it was like a grumbling wolf. You felt warmth push against your waist, followed by something poking at the waistband of your bottoms. At first, you had thought that something may have slipped from your apron or one of the strings had fallen, but as you peered down, you noticed you had no stained (once white) apron around your neck and waist.

Your eyes traveled down Jesse’s body hair to the waistband of his trousers and then to where your own waist is pressed into the cloth. Your jaw slackened, your eyebrows flying up a bit in shock as you looked back at Jesse to find him smirking up at you.

“You coy little wolf,” you purred.

Jesse laughed softly, grinding his heated hips into your waist, rubbing the bulge that had formed in his pants into your own clothing you could feel heating up in arousal. Jesse moaned once more between parted lips, a small gasp as he bucked his hips into your waist. You couldn’t help but groan in lustful agony as you felt yourself starting to slowly lose it.

Did you dare to pull down the waistband of Jesse’s trousers?

Your fingers did the work before your mind could even start to work, your fingers ripping away from the abundant hair on Jesse’s chest (even plucking a few strands from his still raw skin as he hissed in pain) and traced the rim of Jesse’s waistband. You looked back up at Jesse’s face to see his hair had fallen over his eyes, sweat had started to bead at his forehead, his dark hair clinging to the soaked skin. His thick lips parted slightly, his breathing picking up. Despite his hair covering his eyes, you could tell he was watching your every move. A pitiful whine escaped his lips as his large hands grabbed at the pelts and blankets, clawing at them as he tilted his head back, baring and exposing more and more of his throat like an injured wolf. He swallowed, his throat bobbing.

Your fingers slowly slipped down below the waistband, cold nails dragging across his heated skin that earned you another small, soft gasp. You could feel Jesse trembling below you, his feet kicking at the bunched up pelts on the edge of the bed and knocking them over.

You slowly started to peel back the trousers now starting to become damp with sweat before Jesse’s hands slammed down on your waist, lifting you up and pulling your hands back from his pants.

Your mouth dropped open in shock, eyes opening fully as you looked back at Jesse before your body was forcefully moved to the side. You quickly found yourself on your back with Jesse hovering over you, taking your place as you took his.

His sweaty hair was still covering his eyes, but now you could see through his parted lips: Sharp teeth, canines long and dangerous, shining in the dim lantern light.

His breathing was becoming weighted, heavy, deep and dark and dangerous. His hot breath smelled of his cigars and mead, his head slowly lowering to your throat, his nose nuzzling into the crooks of the bared flesh. You could feel his hot tongue roll over your skin that was now goosefleshed. A spike of chilling arousal shot down your spine, all of your body’s hair now standing up straight as Jesse’s heated body made for an agonizing tug on your body. With your chilling body and his warm one just hovering mere hairs above you, you felt lightheaded, only leaving the wolf more of your exposed neck.

The door suddenly slammed open, the whole room creaking and shaking, the candlelight in the lantern went out. Jesse turned to look at the intruder with a snarl escaping his bared lips, giving you the chance to peek from under Jesse at the doorway.

Hanzo stood there, grasping the wooden doorframe, his nails biting into the grooves of the aging wood. Sweat beaded his bronzed skin, his raven locks clinging to his chiseled face, his eyes hooded from the hair that had fallen.

“Dragon,” he coughed.

Jesse did not hesitate to jump from the bed. The absence of his warmth reminded you how cold the inn rooms could be with no candles lit. You were not far behind Jesse, following right on his heels as he followed on Hanzo’s until the three of you were outside.

In the distance, you could see a figure soaring through the sky, orange flames erupting and only illuminating the beast’s purple and orange scales and flanks, its terrifying wingspan and the spiked tail whipping around.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for some sadness.

In the distance, you could not make out flames from burning sunset upon the wheat-lined horizon. Your eyes burned from staring at the figure curling in the sky, wings casting shadows from covering up the sun and her warm summer rays, people fleeing from the shadows and smoke and flame growing closer to the village.

A dragon, a dragon was burning down the land.

You could see it perfectly when it curved in the air, flames spitting towards you all gathered in front of the tavern.

Dread sat deep and heavy in your stomach as if it were a cold lead ball.

You could see her purple and orange scales and flanks perfectly as she passed right over your heads, winds carrying smoke and ash, whipping your hairs and clothing around as if you were all caught in a terrible wind storm. You started to cough, the smell of the fires now catching up to you, your eyes watering as you clasped your hands over your mouth and nose. It burned your lungs, your heart feeling as though it was slamming against your chest harder and harder with every beat. Your vision swam, swaying from side to side as if you were down with a sickness.

But through your haze, your eyes still locked onto the dragon as it curved through the air again, its small jaws unhinging and fire pouring from its mouth as it if were steam from a large cauldron, fire blanketing homes and huts as smoke swallowed up innocent men, women, and children one by one.

The dragon’s wings folded closed slightly, its small, lean body falling until it perched itself on the wellright in front of you all. Its small, clawed, scaley feet wrapped around the old stone bricks that poked through the ground’s surface.

It was a small dragon. All of the dragons you heard of from the adventurers that often sat in the tavern were gigantic, the size of one, two, maybe even three castles. But this one that sat in front of you all was not as big, bigger than Jesse, but not as big as Reinhardt.

It’s amber eyes slowly open, slit onyx black pupils rolling forward and thinning at the sight of you all. Its small black lips curled back to reveal sharp, yellowed teeth. It was a female one from what you could tell, as it was missing an important… organ, not to mention the indentations on its scaled chest acting as possible breasts.

Perhaps she was turned into that as punishment? What could she have done to anger a witch?

Her eyes set on Torbjorn who stood behind you, you could feel him shrink away and you could hear him grumble in some other tongue. Did she know him? Did they know each other before she was turned?

Jesse cocked back his gun and aimed it right at the dragon’s forehead.

“Get outta ‘ere if ya wanna go back to your horde of gold coins, dragon,” he sneered.

The dragon’s eyes slowly closed, and when they opened, the lids slowly dragged over the eyes just like any other lizards. Her pupils were so thin, you would think she had none if you were to have just seen her now.

“McCree,” she hissed, her orange throat bobbing as the embers in her chest burned a brighter yellow. “The Count seeks your head on a silver platter.”

“Get inside,” Jesse growled softly to you. “Get 'em inside.”

Ana, Genji, Jack, and Torbjorn ushered you in, their hands wrapping around you and quickly dragging you back inside of the tavern. As soon as the heavy door slammed shut, Jack braced the handle with one of the nearby wooden chairs.

It was if the tavern was left alone for a while. It was so silent, you could hear the field mice that sleep in the basement. No candles lit, not a soul manning the bar, no central fire lit, tankards and steins abandoned and turned over, alcohol spilling between the cracks in the stone floors. Food scattered around the floor with glass and porcelain. Shields dented, weapons forgotten, helmets with no head to protect and gauntlets hollow, no fingers to protect from fire or palm to stop blisters or knuckles from getting bloody.

“Damned dragon,” Torbjorn spat as he marched over to a chair and plopped down in it, crossing his short arms over his chest. “Is she here to snap off my other arm, now?”

“You lost your first arm to her?” Genji questioned as he braced your shoulders and helped you sit down on one of the benches in front of the ashen logs that adventures and stories were told in front of. “I always thought it was from your work.”

“No,” Torbjorn sneered at the Eastern man, “She took it. Snapped it right off with her jaws. Do you know how hard it is to build an arm with only one arm?” Torbjorn exclaimed as he waved around his one human hand.

Ana placed a tender hand on your shoulder and sat next to you on the bench, her one eye studying the ash built up on the slate plate under the wreckage of the burnt logs.

“Satya would not do that if she were still human, I hope you know,” she murmured. “She was a good one. Kind, smart, she would do anything for anyone good of heart. She was so gentle and caring that she gave herself to the Witch of the Woods so her husband could be brought back to life. But when she saw him go off to another woman, a fiery rage turned her from a simple ghoul to a dragon.” Her eye lingered off to the side, a sigh heaving her shoulders. “She was one of my best friends in my village.”

“Now why would she go and be idiotic like that? I would’ve said to leave him in the ground!” Torbjorn spat.

“She had no idea her husband was like that!” Ana growled. “If she would’ve known…”

“I can not just stand here and do nothing,” Jack scoffed, “there are people that need help, for fuck’s sake.”

He grabbed onto one of the swords left behind, took the chair away from the door and left. Genji replaced the chair and looked out the window, his jaw slackening and eyes widening.

“What is going on out there, Shimada?” Ana questioned the scarred ninja.

You got up from your spot on the bench and walked over to the other window next to him, your jaw slacking just a bit as well at the fight before you.  
Satya had Hanzo by his ankle as Jesse held his fire, pushing past rushing people to try and get the perfect shot until Hanzo had stabbed Satya’s ankle with an arrowhead. The dragon screeched, fore erupting from her mouth as she dropped Hanzo to the ground. Satya’s body curved through the air as if her body was a finely sharpened blade, body twisting, and wings curling around her body as she fell into the well’s hole.

Chaos seemed to stop. Hanzo slowly got up, grabbing the bloody arrow from the ground and brushing back the raven locks from his face. Jesse readied his gun. The two looked at each other, then to the well. Both men started to pace towards it one step at a time. One step closer to the well, two steps closer to each other, three steps towards danger until the men were at the well’s stone curves. They both looked at each other in the eye, lips parted for silent breaths, and nodded.

The two men lurched over to hunch at the gaping hole of the well. Jesse’s gun and Hanzo’s single arrow now hung over the well’s entrance ready for Satya to show her face once more.

Minutes passed, ash and smoke slowly poured from teh homes and huts of the village as the streets soon became bare except for the two men (Reinhardt and Jack were nowhere to be seen). The two men did not flinch or shiver or twitch until Jesse fired his gun and Hanzo’s hand lurched the arrow down.

Satya’s body came spiraling out from the well’s mouth, blood spattering and spilling from her as she screeched, fire pouring from her mouth and into the sky. One of her wings was torn, the bones sticking out in odd angles and the skin was torn to shreds. She could not properly fly, her body crashing into the dirt.

The sky started to dim, blues becoming oranges, becoming reds to purples and soon to be black.

You could see Jesse’s body still, the gun slipping from his grip and onto the dirt ground, kicking up ash and dust. You could see Jesse’s body shake from behind the dirty glass as if a ghost had passed right through him and down his spine.

“What is wrong with him?” you murmured.

“The night,” Genji whispered, his eyebrows climbing on his pale forehead.

“Night. The full moon!”

Genji gripped onto the chair and tossed it aside, opening the door and hurrying outside to look up at the sky. You followed close behind him, your eyes widening at the sight of the full moon, her light waiting, but she was already controlling Jesse.

“The basement, we can hold him in there,” you stated.

“Hanzo!” Genji called to his brother.

The older brother did not look back initially, instead, he only talked closer to the injured dragon with his arrow raised defensively until he was close enough. He wasted no time, a quick stab to the back of her skull and the dragon was dealt with, her wings and tail slumping against her unmoving scaley body.

Genji grabbed onto one of Jesse’s arms and started to tug him closer to the tavern until Hanzo had grabbed the other, thus hoisting Jesse’s convulsing body up from the dirt.

You lead the two brothers through the tavern’s emptiness, through a few doors and finally down a winding path of stairs. You pulled up the heavy wood bar, pushed open the door and peeked in to only see a few boxes and barrels that were empty.

Really, the room was meant to be your very own holding cells for bad patrons of the tavern, for those that were either to stingy to pay for their drinks and food, for those too drunk to wander home, and for those who were causing too much trouble.

“Hopefully this holds a werewolf,” you murmured.

“It should. If a temple’s back room can, this should too,” Hanzo murmured.

The two dragged Jesse into the room, laid him down in the center of the room before walking out.

The two Eastern men left you without a second thought, leaving you and Jesse with an open door between the two of you.

Jesse looked over to you with tired, pleading eyes.

“Darlin’,” he groaned softly, “close the door.”

“I have seen you when you turn, Jesse. I am here for you,” you murmured back to him.

You leaned on the doorframe, ready to close it and bar it when he does try to grab you.

“Darlin’,” he pleaded, whining like a dog almost, “please.”

You lifted the ring so it could shine in the moonlight slowly growing brighter in the room and the stairwell.

“I promised you I loved you, and with that, I am here for you at your worst.”

You could see Jesse’s lips press into a soft smile before he winced, his head pressing into the stone floor as a growl left his lips.

“The door,” Jesse pressed, his nails scraping against the stone as his eyes started to shine that familiar gold. “Close it. Close it now.”

“Jesse,” you murmured.

It only took a snap of his fanged jaws to scare you into slamming the heavy door shut, the bar slipping and slamming into place (almost catching your fingers too).

Through the small iron bars, you placed your chin and fingers between the slots and watched as Jesse’s body started to stretch and crackle, howls and screams of agonizing pain leaving his fanged mouth.

A few tears streaked down your cheeks, sniffling, you stepped away from the door and slowly trekked back up the creaking stairs into the empty tavern. The brothers were not there, Ana was not sitting in the center, Reinhardt was not booming in laughter and Jack and Torbjorn were not arguing over practical items.

You were alone.

Your chest squeezed, your body hurt all over. You felt sick as you slowly walked through the forgotten items still left on the floors of the tavern.

You slowly fixed the tables, placing them upright. You picked up and intact plates and set them on the bar counter, the same with any glasses and tankards and steins. 

You left the weapons and armor alone, you had no need to mess 3with the ghosts of those who met their ends by looking at such pieces of equipment.

You suddenly came upon a necklace. Gold, brighter than any coin you were tipped, hung on a familiar chain.

Your breath was caught in your throat as you slowly bent down to pick it up. The gold was cold in the palm of your hand. Tears prickled your eyes, your throat tight and painful.

Your fingers clasped around the gold necklace, drawing it close to your heart.

It belonged to your mother, your mother that was no longer here just like your father and family.

You truly were alone.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Major violence and blood towards the end.
> 
> Sorry Jesse, it had to be done.

_“I am coming with you.”_

_“Darlin’, that ain’t a good idea.”_

_“What is not a good idea is making me worry. The last time you went off for the Count, you came back to me a lycanthrope. Gods know what could happen to you next.”_

* * *

You shivered underneath the layers of furs piled on top of you and wrapped around your goose-fleshed skin. Your teeth chattered, jaws feeling as though they would crack apart like the ice crunching below your feet at you all continued up the mountains, your teeth feeling like icicles as your tongue keeps sticking to them in an attempt to warm your mouth up.

Even with the furs and protection that the warriors had left behind in your tavern, you were freezing cold. Even with Jesse pressed behind you, one of his large leather-clad hands covering your smaller one, you couldn’t help but shiver at the mountain’s cold. Your village never got this freezing even in the worst of winters. Jesse’s body heat, although, was a great inspiration to keep marching forward, following Reinhardt’s large figure through the snow blasting you all in the sides of the faces.

You mumbled prayers under your frosted breath, eyes squinting as the cold wind kiss your lashes and bit at your lips you swore were going to turn blue any moment.

In the distance, you could see a large, dark, looming shadow through the thick snowfall. Tall, large, built long and strong to survive even the toughest of storms up here in the mountains. The closer you all got, the more and more you saw. Snow displaced by an army of footsteps, black sludge splattered about here and there (you did your best to avoid it all), skulls kicked up from the dirt, bones broken and protruding from the ground.

And then suddenly, the smell hit you worse than alcohol catching up to you.

Your head flew back, the crown of your skull hitting against Jesse’s chest as you silently gagged into the cloth that covered your mouth. One of your gloved hands came up to pinch your nostrils, but you sadly had no luck. The stench was awful, horrid. It reminded you of when your mother had accidentally left meat sitting alone in your moist cellar, and when you accidentally stumbled upon it trying to find an unopened bottle of wine, you nearly threw up on the spot.

Jesse shushed you, one of his warm, rough gloved hands came up to your shoulder where he gently squeezed your clothed skin.

The closer you neared Dracula’s castle, the heavier the silver stake in your pocket felt. Your unoccupied hand reached into your clothing and furs to grasp at the stake, it felt deathly cold in your gloved hand. Your hand did not leave the silver stake, instead, your arm slouched as you all stepped forward towards a sewage drain, unknown liquids frozen over. Your nose instinctively scrunched up knowing you would be walking over frozen urine and sludge in only a matter of seconds.

You eyed the curve of the bricks above, noting damaged wooden planks barred on the edges, looking as if something had smashed their way through. Nails cracks, bolts busted, screws loosened. You eyed Reinhardt before you, knowing only he could do such a thing and reach just as high.

You closed your eyes, braced your nose and toes for the unholy glory that were these monster’s bowels and walked quickly, the rest following in suit until you pushed past an old oak door and were quickly inside a cobblestone hallway.

“None of his minions are around?” Hanzo mumbled, his eyes narrowing and thick black brows furrowing.

“Not that I can hear,” Jesse grumbled. The rest started to trek forward, leaving you and Jesse behind. Jesse grabbed your arm, pulling you back. You turned to look him in the eye, his eyes were soft and worried, looking like the puppy he really is. “Darlin’, please, be careful. These things, the doctor, the Count, they’re fuckin’ dangerous doll.” He lifted your gloved hand and felt around your ring finger until his nails dug into the metal. “I wanna be with you so bad, darlin’, please, just be careful. I wanna live a life with you when this is done. I’ll quit huntin’ if ya want me to, just, dammit doll, please-”

“Be careful,” you murmured with a smile. You carded your fingers into Jesse’s facial hair, tugging the dark brown strands down so your lips connected to his chapped ones. “I will always be careful for you,” you whispered against his lips.

Jesse pulled away from you with a smile spreading across his lips.

“Jesse!” Ana cried out, her voice radiating down the cobblestone halls.

Jesse immediately raced forward, grabbing you by the wrist and yanking you along until his hand slipped from your wrist. You struggled to keep up with him as he raced through the halls to reach the rest of the group.

Something snatched you by the back of your collar, yanking you away as you choked. A small yelp escaped your lips before something collided with the back of your skull, knocking you out cold as if you were just the common drunks you would serve every night.

* * *

Your eyes throbbed, your head pounded, your body felt stiff, but most of all, your neck throbbed and felt sticky. Your eyes slowly peeled open only to flinch away from the flickering torchlight above. You felt someone’s presence in the room, your throbbing eyes scanned the room until they landed on a looming figure in the center of the room: Count Gabriel Dracula Reyes.

You glared at him from where you sat, writhing in your bindings and attempting to jerk your arms free of the leather straps that bound you to your place inside of the small metal cage. He paced around the opposite side of the room, you could see his red eyes often glancing towards the door he most likely expect Jesse to come barging through, then glancing towards you, then to the stained glass window that was too dusty and too dirty to make out the old message.

He hasn’t said a word to you, only grumbling under his breath. Even if you could hear him, it was all muffled from the bone white mask he wore to cover his face. You could only see those red eyes from the cuts in the mask where his eyes are.

You could not even say anything, question him, curse him and his ancestors out, spit at his boots, nothing as you had a rolled piece of cloth gagging you, the fabric cutting into your cheeks, keeping your mouth open and jaws apart, but still keeping you unable to speak.

Your head still ached from where you were hit, your vision still swaying slightly. You flinched when a sudden, loud bang echoed down the hallway and into the room you were tied up in, making the throbbing only worse.

You could hear footsteps, rushed ones, heading right down the hall to your room. You perked up, shifting where you sat bent at the knee, tied to the back of the cage. You whimpered into your gag, jerking a bit once more before slouching.

The door was kicked open, Jesse alone walked through as the heavy iron doors loudly shut behind him. Gun raised and readied, Jesse slowly entered the room. His eyes landed on your first, his teeth bared and grit tight at the sight of you captured and injured. His eyes soon landed on Gabriel who only stood a little ways away.

“You,” Gabriel purred as his eyes burned from behind his bone white mask, “you are the man that survived the little incident my lycans caused two moons ago, aren’t you?”

“Damn right,” Jesse snarled, baring his teeth as the brim of his leather hat dipped to cast shadows from the torches flickering above. “And I’m gonna be the one to drive a stake through yer fuckin’ heart, too.”

Gabriel cackled, his head rolling back as the vampire clapped his leather-gloved hands a few times. His cackles sent shivers down your spine, Jesse only snarling.

“You damned ingrate, I should have went down to that village to kill you myself. Your little bartender too.” Jesse snarled, an animalistic growl leaving his lips as his eyes shined gold. Gabriel only prodded the fire that was surely brewing inside of Jesse as he simply cackled once more. “Let me tell you something, boy,” Gabriel started as his eyes flickered to you, “they taste divine.”

Jesse roared, throwing his gun away without a care and lunged at Gabriel who only ducked out of the way, Jesse spilling over bookshelves on top of him. Wood cracked and splintered as Gabriel drew a small, thin sword from the sleeve of his trenchcoat, the near-white metal shining gold in the torchlight. Your eyes widened: Silver, it was a silver sword. You cried into your gag, struggled in your leather bindings only to be held back to the metal bars that held you tighter than Jesse ever had.

He emerged from the destroyed wood and ruined books a snarling beast, throwing a large slab of wood at Gabriel, knocking the vampire down and the sword out of his hands.

“Rude of you to disrespect an elder, ingrate,” Gabriel scoffed as he dusted himself off.

The bone mask was broken, his long, black hair barely exposed his gray-ish brown skin and his dark brows to you.

Jesse snarled, lunging for Gabriel once more, pinning him to the ground by his shoulders only for Gabriel to smack Jesse with something to make him cry out as if he were a dog kicked in the ass. Jesse stumbled away from Gabriel, nursing his smoking muzzle with claws hands as flakes of herbs fell to the floor. Jesse swatted at Gabriel, claws slashing through the air,  tearing at Gabriel’s trenchcoat and allowing black leather to fly through the air.

Gabriel knocked Jesse away, his body crumpling to the floor. His furry mass started to lose its thickness, dark brown fur melting off of him - as if it was sweat on a glass stein in a hot tavern - until he was writhing, nearly naked on the cobblestone floor. His nails scratched against stone, cracking and splitting as he tried to draw his hand back towards his body, spitting up blood and bile as his tired eyes watched Gabriel’s move like a hawk.

The vampire lifted the silver blade Jesse had knocked out of his hand, turned to the wolfman and placed his booted foot on Jesse’s forearm before he could retract it close to his chest. Jesse whined, cursed, spat and shouted in pain as Gabriel only placed more pressure on Jesse’s arm, elbow crackling and bones popping. Jesse’s legs kicked for purchase on the stone, his other hand trying to pry Gabriel’s foot off of his elbow so he could nurse it close to his sweaty body, only for Gabriel to slap Jesse’s and away without care.

“You know, bartender,” Gabriel warned, raising a dark brow but his eyes never left Jesse’s cowering form, “werewolves and vampires do share a common weakness.” He turned the sword in his hand, picking at the leather wrapped around the hilt.

The silver blade shined in the fire’s flickering light as Gabriel raised it. Jesse, now on his back could only plead with the vampire. You tugged on your restraints, bawled into the gag you bit into, fighting, tugging on the ropes that restrained you to the back of the small metal cage.

Gabriel swung the sword down, slicing through Jesse’s skin. Jesse’s scream rang in your ears, bringing tears to your eyes. You grit your own teeth as if it were you who just had their left sliced off just below the elbow. You couldn’t hear anything as you let out your own scream for mercy. Your ears pounded, your head throbbed. You saw Jesse’s mouth open, his throat tense and adam’s apple bobbing as he screamed, but you couldn’t hear a single sound from the blood rushing through your ears.

You could see smoke plumming from the wound, Gabriel only nudging the severed forearm away from Jesse’s curling body only added salt to the wound. The sight of blackened flesh and muscle and cracked bone slowly being healed over made bile rise up your throat, spilling into your mouth and soaking the gag clamped between your teeth. You could barely see through the tears in your eyes, but you could make out Jesse’s body curling over to his side, his back facing Gabriel as he curled around his wounded arm, his right hand wrapped around his elbow as blood seeped through his fingers.

Gabriel looked to you, red eyes peering through the shadows his brow cast over his, through the dark clumps of hair covering his sweaty gray-ish brown skin. His fingers tightened around the leather-wrapped hilt, the leather groaning under Gabriel’s until the stress gave away when his fingers uncurled from the silver sword, the weapon slipping through his fingers and clattering to the ground, leaving an imprint of blood on the cobblestone floor.

He had a stomach-churning smirk plastered on his face, the hair casting shadows upon his grim face only made it worse. Gabriel turned, his torn trenchcoat flapping in the dry air as his hefty boots carried him into the hallway until he was no longer in sight.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end bois and grills :)

The back of your head smacked against the metal bars of the small metal cage, your eyes wincing and teeth biting into the cloth gag as your shoulders rolled. Maybe, just maybe, if you kept tugging and jerking and biting, something would come loose. You at least hoped it would be your gag so you could shout for help as Jesse had passed out, still curled up in a fetal pose, nursing his now missing hand.

Moments seemed to grow into hours, and yet the torches above did not go out from the lack of fuel nor did the sun start to rise through the stain glass window. You kept biting into the gag, shaking your head, messing with the tight knot behind your head with the metal bars until it had finally come loose. Your teeth unclamped from the awful smelling cloth, your tongue pushing it past your teeth as you were quick to spit it out, landing it right on your lap.

"Jesse!" you called out, tears pricking your eyes as you looked over his hunched over form. "Jesse, please, can you hear me?" you whimpered, your voice hoarse from screaming into your gag for so long. When he did not answer, you yanked yourself forward and cried out. "Jesse!" you practically screamed.

* * *

 

Still no answer. You could only hear his erratic breathing and soft whimpers leaving his parted lips as well as your heart still softly beating in your ears.

You turned your head, looking over your shoulder to the bars your wrists were tied to. The leather straps seemed to be wearing thin, the once dark brown leather now seemingly sun-bleached a light beige. Your wrists only had enough room now to move around slightly, the leather no longer biting into your skin.

You scrunched your nose, took a deep breath, bit your lip and lurched forward until your chest hit your thighs and knees. Your arms were held back, muscle and skin stretching as you attempted to yank your wrists free from the tough leather. You whimpered when your skin popped and spasmed, uncomfortably stretching until your face smacked against the bottom of the cage, nose nearly breaking.

Your hands were free now.

You leaned back, rubbing your wrists softly, examining the deep marks made into your skin before looking for the leather that bound your ankles to the same bar.

Your nails tore at the leather, scratching at the thick knot until it had started to flake off, then soon tearing off into small pieces and soon into the whole knot itself, freeing your feet.

You could not stand though, your legs throbbing as soon as you fully expanded them outwards from being bent at the knee for so long on metal. You winced, a soft hiss leaving your lips.

You looked to Jesse before your cage, his dark brown locks spilling over his face and neck. Your heart pounded against your chest, your eyes prickling with tears. You clawed your way across the metal flooring of your cage until you were at the other side. Slowly, you stuck your hand out through the metal bars. Your fingertips slowly and gently grazed the heated, sweaty, sticky skin of Jesse's left elbow, barely touching the fingers of his right hand now lazily wrapped around the stump of what was left of his forearm.

"Jesse," you whimpered. "Jesse, open your eyes for me. Speak to me, Jesse, please."

A soft whine pierced through Jesse's lips, his fingers twitching, barely grasping at yours. An airy gasp escaped your smiling lips, tears now rolling freely down your cheeks.

"(Y/n)," he softly whispered behind the dark, sweaty mop of hair that covered most of his pained face.

"I am here, Jesse. I am here," you whimpered back.

You sniffled, wiping the back of your hand under your nose and smiling once more at your partner before you.

The doors Jesse had barged in not too long ago slowly creaked open, Genji and Torbjorn slowly creeping in until they both caught sight of you two as well as Jesse's hacked off forearm.

"What happened to you two?" Genji gasped as he darted for the cage.

Genji lifted up the hefty lock with two fingers and started to mess with the insides with a small dagger he produced from under his cloak.

"Gabriel, he tied me to the back of this cage. Jesse came in here to save me, but... Gabriel... he-"

"Chopped off McCree's arm like the head of a fish?" Torbjorn spat as he picked up Jesse's severed arm gently and held it in his human hand.

"A silver sword," you nodded to the small, thin weapon still lying in the room.

"If we can't stitch it back on him, I can always make him a replacement," Torbjorn offered softly as he motioned to his metal hand, spinning the iron claw. "Just... human, not one for work," he softly joked.

"Is he... awake?" Genji murmured.

"I... do not know. He moved a bit and whispered my name, but... I do not think he is awake anymore," you shook your head.

The lock clicked, the door to the cage flying open. Genji gently grasped under your arm and hoisted you over his shoulder, your legs still feeling weak and pained.

"Be careful," Genjii tutted softly as he helped you stand.

"How did you know to look for us?" you murmured.

Genji reached into his cloak and retrieved your silver stake, the silver shining gold in the torchlight just like the sword.

"We found it on the ground. You had it on your person, and when we saw it, we knew something had gone horribly wrong."

You took the stake from Genji, it felt awfully heavy in your hands now. It was as if it were a heavy responsibility now placed onto your shoulders...

You knew what you had to do...

You eyed Jesse's gun not too far away from your person, lying on dirt and dust and stone.

"What do we do with him?" Torbjorn asked as he carefully wrapped Jesse's arm with a pelt he had around his waist.

"Get him out of here. Back to the village, in my tavern," you ordered as you marched towards the gun.

"And what of you?" Genji shot back.

"I am going to finish this once and for all."

You opened the barrel of the gun, and with a single turn, it was revealed all six bullets were still in their proper places. Your nails bit into the end of one bullet, pulling out the golden end of the casing to reveal wooden bullets. You slipped the bullet back in, slid the barrel back into place and pocketed the silver stake on your person.

"You are going alone?!" Genji coughed. "You need help. You cannot defeat Gabriel alone!"

"Jesse is my partner," you spat, swinging your arm around to keep the man in his place. "His duties become my duties."

"It is our duty too."

"But Jesse was the one who took up the task, you are the ones that decided to help him. I am the one that will finish this."

You pulled back the hammer of the gun, looked to Jesse's body in Genji and Torbjorn's arms and pushed past the heavy doors into the hallway.

* * *

 

You passed a rickety, old window, the glass stained yellow from years of neglect against dirt and dust. You peered out, shivering as cold air blew past you through the cracks in the glass and metal. Through the dirt and dust that clouded the windows, you could make out figures moving in the snow, three of them. You squinted, nearly pressing your nose into the dirty glass to only see Reinhardt, Jack, and Ana carrying Jesse down the mountain in the storm.

Good. At least Jesse would be out of this awful place.

But why were the brothers still here?

You sighed through your nostrils, lifted Jesse's gun once more, and cautiously stepped through the hallways, up and down steps and stairs, freezing by every intersecting hallway and doorway standing ajar, slowly leaning in to check to see if you weren't in danger only to either scurry down the hall to avoid confrontation or to calmly continue walking as you were not in danger.

You slowly descended a flight of stairs, the light from torches had slowly dimmed on the way down, the scents of salt and sewage overwhelmed your nose and burned your eyes to sting with tears. You gagged, swallowing your warming saliva as a wave of nausea smacked you in the chest as you continued down the flight of stairs.

You froze when you heard someone shouting, a fight going on at the bottom of the stairs. You heard a dark, grumbly shout followed by a spine-chilling cackle... Gabriel's cackles, Hanzo's shout.

Your fingers latched around a torch, yanking its free from its metal holder and hurried down the stairs, the torch nearly burning you a few times upon your descent. You reached the bottom, your jaw dropping and the torch threatening to slip from your fingers to the soaking wet, mossy stone floor.

With the torchlight provided, you could see Hanzo's broken bow and quiver still full of arrows scattered on the floor. The wood was splintered and cracked, metal bent, fur torn from the skin and beads broken and spread across the floor. His leather quiver torn to near shreds. The arrows were all broken, in the middle and some of the arrowheads stomped flat. You lifted the torch, stretching your arm out farther to see dark figures struggling before you.

The torchlight barely illuminated Gabriel's hands around Hanzo's thick neck, his hands scratching at Gabriel's face, attempting to scratch at his mouth, nose and eyes to get the vampire off of him. You could see something pooling at their feet, something dark and shining in the torchlight.

You swallowed, nostrils flaring as you cocked the hammer back n Jesse's gun, aiming at Gabriel with a shaking hand and pulled down the trigger.

The forceful bang scared you, dropping the gun as the kickback hurt your wrist. Gabriel coughed, wheezed and wailed as he dropped Hanzo to the ground before disappearing within a blink of an eye.

"Hanzo!" you cried out, rushing to the man to catch him before he fell to the ground. His heavy weight brought you to your knees, his weight pressing down on your thighs and knees as he groaned. You watched as one of his large hands came up to press his neck, fingers pressing on skin only to draw back to be coated in dark red, sticky blood. "Hanzo, you will be okay," you whispered as you pressed the cloth of your sleeve to his neck.

He coughed roughly, groaning and pushing your hand away from his neck, shaking his head.

"You... you should not be here," Hanzo warned as he winced. "He is still here. You must go."

"I will not leave you behind. Your brother is most likely worried about you."  
Hanzo scoffed, laughing and wheezing before harshly coughing and groaning.

"After all I have done to him, he still worries for me like I am the little brother."

"He loves you, Hanzo."

Hanzo's lips pressed into a tight, thin line before he harshly coughed once more.

You carefully moved Hanzo off of your legs, gently placing his head on a  small pile of moss before standing up. You slowly walked up to Jesse's gun, picking it up from the ground and slowly pulled back the hammer.

You took slow, cautious steps away from Hanzo's body, swinging the torch around as if you were banishing demons from this dark abyss, the gun quickly following the ashen trail floating in the air. Your teeth grit, your eyebrows arched, you put on a brave face as your eyes darted around the darkness, occasionally looking back to see if Hanzo was still lying where you left him.

You let out a shocked shout when rough hands wrapped around your wrists,  pain surging up your arms, forcing you to drop the torch onto the moist moss. However, Jesse's gun stayed in your hand, and you did your best to try and rotate your wrist, lowering and angling the nose of the gun to your attacker's head only for a series of crackles and pops in your wrist to force you to drop the gun to the ground.

In the dying embers of the torch below, you made out Gabriel's face. You noticed a black, bloody hole slowly closing up. His teeth were bared, long, sharp fangs filled his mouth. His breath was rancid, smelling of dead rats and poison. His long oily black locks were either sticking up or clinging to his face by sweat and blood. His red eyes were burning bright in the dim torchlight, full of rage and hunger. A growl escaped from between his bared fangs.

He forced you backwards by your wrists, your whimpers only stirring him on, until your back was pressed against the cobblestone walls. Tears spilled over your lashes and dripped dryly down your cheeks as yu faced Gabriel face-to-face.

"You damned bartender, you should have stayed in your village where you belong!" he spat.

"You damned monster, you should have stayed in your moldy grave where you laid unnamed in the swamps!" you retorted.

One of Gabriel's hands left your wrist only to clamp down on your neck, this fingers pressing onto your pulse, dirty nails biting into your skin. You gasped, choked as your free hand attempted to scratch at his hand around your throat. Your nails cut into his skin, some scratches even leaking dark, thick blood, but it did not phase him. Instead, he only clamped down harder and smiled wickedly as you stood there dying in his grip.

Your free hand fumbled down to your belt, fiddling with your clothing until your fingers wrapped around the cold metal that made up the silver stake. You yanked it free from its position in your belt, swung it outwards at lodged it into Gabriel's chest, just a little bit below his armpit right where one of his lungs were.

Gabriel's hand around your throat slackened until you could pull yourself free, your eyes watching as he let go of your wrist next and stumbled backward a few steps.

Smoke started to plume from the cut the silver stake made into his body, grayish brown skin starting to pale and crack as he coughed and wheezed. The red fire in his eyes had gone out, but you could still see the shine in his fangs and the whites of his eyes as he panicked, looking at his deteriorating body.

His body slowly started to crack away, and upon impact on the floor, turned to dust and ash until he tilted backwards, dust and ash flying up in the air.

You still stood up against the wall, panting, rubbing your throat as you kept staring at the ash now piled at your feet.


End file.
